What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas Or Not
by Tess Lucetram
Summary: Nick Knight runs across a murder while vacationing in Las Vegas, putting him in contact with the CSI crew.


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight or CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. They belong to their respective powers that be. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own twisted enjoyment. This story is set post third season Forever Knight in an alternate timeline where Schanke never died and Tracy was never introduced. Just substitute him for her where ever possible. Last Knight never happened either. I refuse to believe it! It is also set after the "vampire murder" in the original CSI series – I reference it several times.

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas – Or Not

By Patti Ladd (Tess Lucetram)

Vegas – the brightest city in the world, it seemed to Nick's sensitive eyes. It hadn't been the last time he'd been here, he mused. Schanke had finally roped him into a vacation with him and Myra and Jenny. Nick had brought Nat along too, just so he wouldn't slip and accidentally on purpose kill his semi-obnoxious partner. He wondered, amused, if Nat would be enough of a deterrent if Schanke tried to get him to go to one more lounge show.

"Nick!" Schanke called. "You comin' or what?"

Nick rolled his eyes. They were alone tonight. The girls had gone off to get spa treatments at the hotel. "Thanks a lot, Nat," he muttered under his breath, and called, "Coming," to Schanke, more jovially than he felt. This was promising to be a very long week.

A man walked nervously down an alley, checking over his shoulder every couple of steps. He was sure he was being followed by a thug from the casino. He knew he should have left before that last hand of blackjack! He'd seen the man in the suit coming for him at the table and he had lit out of there, just like every good con man would do. Never mind the small pot of money he'd collected. It was only a couple thousand. He'd had to leave more behind before. Not that he liked it or anything, but that was just how the game went sometimes.

Looking over his shoulder once again, he didn't see the man he was running from materialize out of nowhere in front of him, and slammed into his chest. "Oof!" he grunted, as he fell back to the ground. Looking up, it was indeed the same man from the casino. He was a pale guy in a dark suit. The guy on the ground shuddered. He was creepy, almost, and somehow he didn't think the guy would stop at breaking his knee caps and face. He scooted backwards, still on his bottom, and pressed himself against one of the alley walls. Still, the man made no move and no sound. The guy shuddered again, when finally the thug took a few measured steps toward him. He chanced another look at him and screamed in terror.

"What have we got David?" Grissom asked.

The tech looked down at the body on the ground and took a deep breath. "Bryan Desmond – 32, con man. Punctures in his neck, and abrasions on the palms of his hands. There don't seem to be any more wounds on him anywhere, yet, but Doc Robbins will give you the full work up on him I'm sure."

"Who found him?" Grissom continued.

"A couple of Toronto homicide detectives found the body, sir. Detective Knight said he heard a scream, and he and his partner found the guy like this. Brass had them sent outside the yellow tape; them being out of their jurisdiction and all. They're waiting over there for you," the tech finished, pointing at the men.

"Thanks," Grissom responded and walked away. His team joined him at the mouth of the alley. No one wanted to speak. They had already had one of these weird murders earlier this year. "Everybody knows what's going on?" he finally said. They all nodded assent. "Then let's get to work people. I'll talk to the detectives." With that, the group moved apart and Grissom drifted towards the two strangers.

They were about as opposite as two people could be by the looks of them. One was tall, pale, thin, and blonde. The other was shorter, tanned, stocky, and had balding brown hair. They were deep in conversation when Grissom stopped near the tall one's elbow. He cleared his throat and both turned as one. They had obviously been partners for some time.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted them. "Which one of you is Detective Knight?"

The tall one stepped forward and shook his hand. A mental shudder ran through Grissom, which he had only felt a couple of times before. It was always unsettling. "I'm Detective Nicholas Knight, Metro homicide, Toronto."

"My name is Gil Grissom. I'm with the crime lab, and I'll need to ask you and…" he paused.

"Detective Don Schanke," Schanke supplied for him, stretching out his hand as well.

"I'll need to ask you and Detective Schanke some questions," he continued.

"Of course," Nick said. "Whatever we can do, we will do gladly. Won't we, Schanke?" he questioned, elbowing his partner when he tried to protest.

Schanke said nothing, and Nick took his silence as a sign of acquiescence.

"That's a very generous offer, Detective," Grissom said, "but you _are_ out of your jurisdiction here. And I wouldn't want to ruin your vacation." He paused and Schanke took the opportunity to throw a decidedly smug look in his partner's direction before Grissom continued. "However, I do feel that since you are detectives, and since you were first on the scene, I could use more of your help than the standard bout of question answering." Schanke's face fell noticeably, but Nick grinned.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence Mr. Grissom," he said, and grinned even wider, bordering on evilly (a trick he had learned from his sire long ago) at Schanke. "We won't disappoint you."

"I'm sure you won't. Now, I usually work the night shift, but I'd like to get your statements in early tomorrow. How about 10 a.m. tomorrow morning?" Grissom asked.

Nick's and Schanke's expressions changed places almost immediately, something Grissom did not fail to notice. "Something the matter gentlemen?" he asked, figuring the men had appointments already, despite the offer to help.

"Uh, um, I…" Nick stammered.

"What my suddenly tongue-tied partner is trying to say," Schanke said none too nicely, "is that he won't come in during the day." Nick blushed as much as his pale complexion would allow. He hated to talk about his "allergy" if it wasn't completely necessary, especially to these science types. Natalie was one thing, but strangers were another.

"And why, if I may ask, is that?" Grissom asked, puzzled by the "won't."

"I'm allergic to the sun," Nick muttered, looking at the ground. Grissom sighed, irritated. There was no way the man could have known that he wouldn't hear, but it annoyed him anyway.

"Could you speak up, Detective Knight?"

"I said, I'm allergic to the sun," Nick stated again. "Painfully so. I can't go out during the day at all."

This almost threw Grissom, but he recovered quickly enough. "Oh. Well, in that case, would you be available tonight? I would have asked anyway, but it is late and I thought you might have families to get back to."

"Yes, I'm available tonight any time," Nick said quickly before Schanke could say anything else. "You'll have to ask my partner about his schedule though."

Schanke sighed. "I'm available tonight too."

"Good. I'll have Captain Brass set up interviews. In the mean time, would you mind telling me exactly what happened?"

"Sure," Nick started. "My partner and I were walking along the street, talking, you know, when I heard a scream from the alley. I told him what I'd heard and we proceeded to the spot. We found the man lying just like he is now. He was obviously dead. We didn't touch him, and we only got close enough to see his wound, in case there were shoeprints. I stayed here to guard the scene while Detective Schanke went inside to make a phone call to you guys," Nick recited in police fashion.

"Thank you. If you would wait outside the tape for now, someone will give you a ride to the station when we are through."

"No problem," Nick called to Grissom's retreating back.

"Nick, what is the deal?" Schanke hissed at him. "This is supposed to be a vacation! What am I going to tell Myra? What are _you_ going to tell Nat?"

"Oh, come on, Schanke! You know you wanted in on this investigation after that blood mobile guy. The M.O. is the same as the guard in the museum – the only one we couldn't pin on him. And besides, I'm sure Myra, Jenny, and Nat will be glad to be away from us for a couple of days." Nick watched as Schanke thought about this. Of course, Nick knew very well who had killed the guard at the museum, but Schanke didn't know that. No one did, except for Nat, and she was sworn to silence. It was one of the reasons he had been so eager to volunteer to help out with the case. He'd felt a presence the moment he'd stepped into the alley.

"You know, Knight, I hate it when you're right," Schanke muttered. Nick just smiled.

Grissom finished talking to the detectives and walked over to his team. "What have we got?" he asked for the second time that night.

Sara stood from where she was busy snapping pictures of the footprints in the dust of the alley floor. "Some of these footprints don't make any sense," she said. "I mean, the victim's do, and the few the detectives left, but the other ones…" she trailed off. "They just start, like the guy jumped off the roof and landed in that one spot. We assumed the vic was running and looking over his shoulder from the placement of his prints. That means he knew, or thought he knew someone was following him – presumably his assailant. But the guy's prints only show up in front of the vic. It doesn't make any sense. And then, you can see he takes a few steps towards the guy while he's on the ground, and then there're just no more prints again." Sara growled in irritation. Grissom made no comments on this and looked to Warrick next.

"Abrasions on his hands don't look like they're defensive wounds," Warrick said. "They've all got some gravel and dirt in them, like he fell and landed on them, which he probably did, if the tracks in the dust and the dirt on the seat of his pants are any indication. Means he didn't put up much of a fight, although I can't imagine why not. He wasn't exactly little or anything." Again, Grissom said nothing, but nodded and went to the next person.

"Punctures in his neck, just like that case a few months back," Catherine said. She'd been on that one, so she was feeling a little déjà vu. "Hopefully, we can get some prints from the guy's skin. He was sweating pretty badly by the looks of it. We might also be able to get DNA samples from the saliva again," she finished, swabbing the victim's neck as she talked.

"Great," he said to his assembled team in general. "You guys run the stuff to the lab. I'm going to sit in on the detectives' interviews. And tell Nick, when he shows up, that I want all the background he can find on both the detectives and the victim. That's everything. I want everyone on this case. The M.O. is too close to that other case a few months back to let it go." The CSI team nodded as one and moved off, leaving the body the medical examiner on site. Doc Robbins would finish the job and tell them if there were any anomalies. Grissom walked back to where the Toronto detectives were talking to each other and listened for a moment before interrupting.

"Gentlemen, I'm done here for now, and we're leaving. You're welcome to ride with me back to the station." Grissom gestured to the black SUV he drove to crime scenes.

"Thank you, Mr. Grissom," Nick said, and walked to the car with Schanke in tow. Grissom followed them.

In the car, there was a long silence. No one wanted to talk about the case at hand, for various reasons. Nick, of course, didn't want to talk because of the vampire connection. Schanke simply didn't know what to make of it because of the previous case they'd worked on, and Grissom was pondering the detectives themselves. For the moment he had no solid thoughts at all; just fluid ideas that kept shifting on him. In truth, it unnerved him. He could think of very few times when he couldn't get the sense of a person from a first meeting, and one of them was Paul Mulander. It was Schanke who finally broke the silence, he having the least to worry about.

"So, Mr. Grissom," he said, "do you have any ideas at all about the victim? You know, Nick and I worked a case like this a few years back. Some guy was stealing blood from the homeless and we think he moved on to a security guard when his usual prey got too easy for him. But we could never pin the guard on him, and he died in a fire before we could question him. But the guard had those puncture wounds in his neck too. They were the only marks on the guy, and our M.E. couldn't make heads or tails of it. Man-oh-man, what do you think Nat would say if she knew we turned up another one, Nick?"

Nick smiled at Natalie's imagined reaction. "_Nick, what the Hell is going on here? I this one random, or is someone trying to give you another message?_"

"I don't know, Schanke. I don't think she'll be too pleased, that's for sure. You know how she hates to let these things go unsolved for too long." Nick chuckled.

"You had another case like this, though?" Grissom questioned, to make sure he'd heard correctly.

"Yeah. Like I said, it was a few years ago. As a matter of fact, it was the first case me and Nick ever worked together." It was Schanke's turn to grin at the recollection of his and Nick's first ever night together, and Nick's less than enthusiastic response.

"That's very interesting, considering we just had a similar case here a few months back. Some kids playing at being vampires, and one of them took the game too far. We finally caught the guy and the D.A. got him the maximum sentence she could. It was a shame really. He killed a young woman and actually drank her blood. He claimed he was really a vampire too. He'd sharpened his teeth and everything. He was more than a little unbalanced."

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He never understood crimes like these. There was enough violence and death in the world already. Why did mortals have to add to it that way? Vampires were quite sufficient on their own. They didn't need mortal "help." But then, he understood the allure of his life as well – too well.

Grissom noticed his shift. "Something wrong, Detective?" he asked.

"No, not really. I just never understand why people do it – kids especially. There's no reason for it."

Schanke rolled his eyes in the back seat. "Nick, come on. Do not give this guy your usual bleeding-heart run around, huh?" He shifted his attention to Grissom, who peered at him in the rear view mirror. "He's the best cop I know, but he gets too personally involved sometimes." Schanke switched his focus to Nick again. "You only buy yourself a lot of needless pain and suffering you know."

Nick blushed as much as he was able again, which, as usual, didn't amount to much. He was grateful that the ride was over, as they pulled into the parking lot of the police department. Quickly, he opened the door and walked inside, heedless of the other two men following him. But he stopped short just beyond the doors and waited for the other two to catch him. "Where to now?" he muttered, as Grissom and Schanke approached. Grissom gestured down a hallway with one arm.

"You know, of course, we'll have to question you separately, as a matter of procedure. I'm sure you understand," Grissom informed them.

"Of course. No problem," Nick and Schanke said together. Two officers escorted them to separate interview rooms.

As they sat down, Schanke looked at the officer accompanying him. "You know, you guys got it good down here. Our precinct house doesn't look half as nice as this. Man-oh-man, wouldn't Nick blow a major gasket if I moved here," he mused to himself. The officer said nothing, but continued to set up the tape recorder. When he was done and all the formalities had been taken care of, Schanke was introduced to Captain Brass.

"Good evening, Detective Schanke," he greeted cordially. "Now, since you are an officer yourself, I'm sure you know how this works. Why don't you just tell us exactly what happened, in your own words, and you can be out of here."

"No problem. Myra's probably having a fit by now. Nat too. Anyway, I'll get down to it. Nick – Detective Knight – and I were walking along when all of a sudden he pulls one of his looks on me."

"Looks?" Brass interrupted.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes. Well, all the time's more like it. He'll get this glazed look and then go haring off, to the annoyance of myself and our captain."

"Okay, he got a 'look.' Please continue."

"So, I ask him what the deal is, and he says he heard something. That's Knight though, vague. Naturally, I ask him what he thinks he heard as we're walking down the strip. He says he heard a scream."

"And you didn't hear this alleged scream at all, Detective?"

"No. But that's Nick again. The man is…and how to put this? Eccentric, is a good previously used word. But he knows what he's doing and I've seen him pull rabbits before, so I humor him and he runs off, straight to the alley. We see the victim, and he stays with him while I went to call you guys. I come back and Knight has one of his 'looks' again, but this time it's one of his space cadet looks, like he's off somewhere with Captain Picard. I ask him what's up now and he goes into his 'I don't know what you're talking about,' routine and clams up until your people arrive about ten minutes later," Schanke finished.

"Thank you, Detective," Brass answered him. "You've been very helpful. If you'll just wait in the lobby, a car will take both you and your partner to your hotel."

"No problem at all, Captain," Schanke told him, and extended his hand. Brass shook it and the men parted.

In his own room, Nick was doing the same thing as Schanke, but it was Grissom doing the questioning. "Detective Knight…" he began.

"Nick, please," Nick interrupted.

"_Nick_," Grissom started again, "can you tell us exactly what happened, please?"

"Of course. Detective Schanke and I were walking down the strip, or, rather, Schanke was kind of dragging me along in his wake, when I heard a scream. I told my partner and I followed the sound to the alley, where we found the victim. As I said before, neither of us touched him. It was clear to me that he was dead. I told Schanke to find a phone and call the police while I stayed with the body. He came back and you guys showed up shortly after. That's it."

"You say you heard the scream, right? Did your partner hear it too?"

"I don't think so. It didn't seem that he did. Why?"

"It's just odd that you heard one scream out of all the other noise on the strip."

"Well, I have excellent hearing, Mr. Grissom. I'm sure my partner can attest to that."

"I'm sure. And you also said that it was apparent that the man was dead when you walked into the alley. How did you know that without touching the body?"

"I could see the wound on his neck," Nick stammered. What to do now? He couldn't very well tell the man he hadn't heard a heart beat! "And he was at a very awkward angle. It looked like his neck was broken. Plus, there were the footprints on the ground. I saw that he had been attacked and fallen, and with the weird angle, it was just clear to me that he was dead," Nick finished lamely. He prayed to whatever god might listen to him that the man in front of him would accept it. It seemed he was in luck, for once in his miserable 800 years, when Grissom shifted his gaze.

"Well then, if that's all there is to it, I suppose you should be getting back to your vacation," Grissom stated, but he was already far ahead of himself, making mental notes to check every aspect of the story and the detective himself.

Nick rose to leave, and Grissom extended his hand. Nick took it, and Grissom noted that he had very cold hands, especially for the desert in August and he got another chill down his spine. "Thank you, Mr. Grissom," Nick said and headed towards Schanke and the exit.

"Oh, one more thing," Grissom called to the retreating detective's back. Nick turned. "What building were you in front of when you heard the scream?"

Nick thought a moment, more for effect than anything else. His vampiric memory allowed him to recall instantly. "The Grand."

"Thank you, that's all I needed." Nick nodded and left. When both he and Schanke had gone out the front door, Grissom made a call to Nick Stokes.

"Yeah, Nick?" Grissom said, when Nick answered. "I need you to run some computer checks for me, okay. A Detective Nicholas Knight, with the Toronto police department – 96th precinct. Get me everything you can find on him and his partner, Detective Donald Schanke. Thanks Nick."

"Sure, boss, no problem," Nick said, but he was too late. Grissom had hung up already.

Finished with his phone call, Grissom applied himself fully to his field. From the table and the back of the chair he lifted fingerprints and a single hair. "Perfect," he muttered to himself, and left a confused officer in his wake as he headed for the lab.

"What happened to you guys?" Nat exclaimed. "Myra was ready to send a search and rescue team after you. She was sure you'd been mugged and were lying in an alley way somewhere."

"Don't even mention alleys, Nat," Schanke groaned as he passed by.

Natalie raised a questioning eyebrow at Nick, who explained. "We found a drained body, Nat – in an alley. The police took us in to get our statements. They might want our help. We told them about the _other_ case," he said, sure she'd know exactly what he was talking about, and giving her a look that said he'd fill her in later tonight.

"Oh," was all Nat could manage for a moment. Then, "Myra's not going to be happy about this, I can tell you. She twisted my ear the whole time about what she and Schanke were planning to do."

Nick forced a smile at Nat's obvious exasperation at Myra. He'd heard phone calls between her and Schanke before, and Schanke didn't usually get to say more than "Hello" and "Good bye." Both he and Natalie headed for their room. It was a double occupant, with two beds, but Schanke had still raised his eyebrows and leered suggestively at them. As they entered, Nat immediately began to question Nick for all the particulars of the case.

"Alright, Nick – spill it," she ordered.

"We found a body, Nat. A _drained_ body," he said, half-teasing.

"You said that earlier! I want the details!"

Nick got to the point. "It was one of us. I felt a presence. I don't know who or why, though. I only know it was one of us. And I'm not sure why, but I think one of the CSIs is suspicious of me. He seems to be able to sense me somehow. He asked me some questions when I gave my statement that gave me the distinct impression of being a suspect."

"Nick, what the Hell is going on here?" Natalie asked when he finished. "Is this one random, or is someone – like Lacroix – trying to give you another message?"

Nick blinked and stared at her for a moment, remembering the imagined response he thought Nat would give, before grinning broadly in amusement. Nat was not happy with his reaction.

"And what, may I ask, is so funny?"

"Schanke asked me what I thought your reaction to the news would be. You answered almost spot on to what I imagined. I think we've been spending too much time together if I can predict almost verbatim what you are going to say." Nick was still grinning at her, belaying her surprise at his last statement, so she laughed.

"Maybe we have," she told him, then sobered. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I haven't got any kind of an idea, Nat," he responded. "I don't think this guy meant to set me up though. But Grissom is suspicious anyway. He told us about a similar case he had a few months ago. Some kid pretending to be a vampire killed a girl with his teeth and actually drank her blood." Nick stopped and shuddered. He _really_ didn't want to know why the man had done what he'd done, but what frightened him, if he was honest with himself, was the desire to find the kid and repay him in kind for the murder he'd committed. Nick clamped down on the thought before it could go any further.

Natalie watched his internal struggle play across his face with interest. She knew he wanted the kid to pay for what he'd done. But there was too much of a parallel with the emotions she had witnessed from him when he'd been under cover in that twelve step program, so she gently, verbally prodded him.

"Nick? What are you thinking? Are you okay?" she asked.

"Why would a mortal do that, Nat? What is the purpose? They don't have the hunger to drive them to it! It is willful, and they are in full control of themselves!" he exploded. Nat said nothing and just let him vent, so he continued. "_We_ at least have an excuse. Not that I condone it, or think that it can't be controlled, but it exists. They have no such excuse; it is completely voluntary. And they can't even get the real effects from it! They can't see the person's life! There's no desire to know more that leads to a draining!" Nick faltered, embarrassed that he'd mentioned those things to Nat, of all people. God, it sounded like he was missing it! And Nat just stood there, looking at him. "I…I'm sorry Nat," he sighed. "I shouldn't have said that."

Natalie took his hand. "It's alright, Nick. I know what you meant. I didn't think you wanted to go back to it, or anything. You're just upset at the waste of a young life, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me vent and not taking it the wrong way. It's been eating at me since Grissom mentioned it."

"No problem. Now, tell me why you think this guy Grissom is suspicious of you. I've heard of him. He's supposed to be brilliant. You should be really careful around him."

"Well, when I gave my statement, I told him I heard the victim scream and that's how I found him – which is the truth. He questioned me on it. He asked if Schanke had heard it too, and commented that it was odd for me to have heard one scream over the din of the strip. Then, when I told him I hadn't touched or gotten too near the body, but I knew he was dead, he questioned me on that too. Asked exactly how I knew. That one was tougher and I gave him some line about the look of the wound and the guy's awkward angle. He seemed to buy it, but I could hear his heart speed up the tiniest bit when I shook his hand. The whole interview was weird. Plus, Schanke told him about my 'allergy' at the scene when he wanted to question us tomorrow morning. And there's no telling what else Schanke told them either," Nick finally sighed.

Natalie looked very thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "Well, you can't just avoid him now. You already said you'd help, right? So backing off now would only make him more suspicious. I suggest you grin and bear it for the time being, and try to allay his suspicions any way you can, short of hypnotizing him. And I know I always tell you not to do those things, but it might be warranted this time IF nothing else works."

Nick nodded his agreement and the conversation turned to the mundane. What had the girls done while the guys were away, what movie did they want to watch and what were the plans for tomorrow?

The next day, Grissom was preparing to go over the results of his test on Detective Knight's samples when he was interrupted by Warrick.

"Hey Grissom, what're we doing today?"

"Well, we need to see if Detective Knight could've really heard a scream from where he said he was standing. Why don't you and Sara work on that this afternoon?"

"Sure thing. I'll tell Sara."

"Someone say my name?" Sara asked from the doorway.

"Yeah, I want you and Warrick to go check out Detective Knight's story."

"Cool."

On the way to the strip, Sara had more than a few questions for Warrick. He'd been on the last case like this; well, they all had been, but he and Catherine had been the primaries.

"Why do you think people do it, Warrick?"

"What? Murder? That's the age-old question, isn't it?"

"Well, no. I meant the whole vampire thing. Far as I can tell, there doesn't seem to be much of an attraction. You talked to some of them last time, so I was wondering if you gained any insight."

"Not too much. We asked around that underground club, yeah, but most of the people in there seemed like the fringe group. I think most of them are just normal, lonely people who want something to give their lives a kick, same as any formal club or organization."

"Wait, wait. You're comparing these people to regular stiffs that go and play poker or take karate lessons?"

"I guess so, yeah."

"Well, I still don't see the attraction. We slog through blood every day and there's nothing remotely sexy about it like all these books and shows and clubs portray."

"Well, that's us, though. Maybe we're desensitized by seeing it every day. It's just our job. But the most blood an average person sees in the day comes from a paper cut on the office memo."

"Maybe."

"So why the sudden need to know? Thinking about trying it some time?"

"Not hardly. But maybe I should do some more research. Did you find out anything else before I do, though?"

"Well, some of the web sites where people posted experiences describe a feeling of euphoria when drinking human blood, like the donor's feelings and such. I didn't buy a word of it though."

They were finally in front of the Grand.

"Here we are," Sara sighed. "How are we going to do this? We can't do it ourselves and just shout – it wouldn't be objective."

"Which is why I brought along these," Warrick replied, pulling two small boxes from his kit.

"And they are?"

"Sound boxes with decibel meters. They only register the sound from the other box, so we'll get clean results. Here, take that one and walk to the alley with it. I'll stay here and try to pick up the sound."

Sara gave him a sideways glance but did as she was asked. As she was walking, she inspected the device she was carrying. She saw an on/off switch, volume knob, decibel meter, speaker, microphone and display readout. She switched it on and a red LED glowed.

"I'm in position," she called to Warrick on the walkie talkies.

"Great," he returned. "Turn up the volume in increments. I'll tell you when to stop."

Finally, Warrick's receiver picked up the noise from Sara's. It was just within hearing range of a normal shout.

"Thanks Sara, that's good," Warrick called.

"Guess that verifies the detective's statement," Sara remarked when she returned to the SUV.

"Guess so. What now?"

"Well, we have to report back to Grissom anyway, so why not ask him?"

In his lab, Grissom was getting some very unsettling results from his tests. The fingerprints were in the system already – a Nicholas Forrester, from the McCarthy era, and the hair didn't want to cooperate with the machines at all. It tested for a very strange virus, but nothing else. The DNA was remarkably intact. Usually by 35 or 40 the telomeres - the caps on the end - were worn away at least some. These seemed to be in perfect condition, as though the detective had been literally born yesterday. There was no sign of breakage at all. He'd have to ask one of his team for their opinion, but leave out what he was working on.

"Hey, Greg, would you come in here for a second?" he called across the hall. Greg held up one finger behind him, in a "one second" gesture, and then capped a sample he was working on.

"Sure, boss, what's up?" he said when he walked into Grissom's private office lab.

"Tell me what you can make of this," Grissom stated blandly.

Greg took the results of Grissom's tests and read them over carefully. "Seems to be a baby with an unknown virus. I've never seen anything like it before. Where did you come up with that sample? I'd love to see the virus in action."

"Thank you, Greg," Grissom said, as he took the results back, and turned around, waving vaguely that Greg could leave.

"No problem, boss," Greg muttered, and ambled back to his own lab. "Well, that was weird," he said to the room at large, when Nick Stokes walked in.

"Sorry man, what was weird?" he questioned.

"Hi Nick. Grissom. He asked me to look at some test results and then he wouldn't tell me why. He seemed very distracted. Not like him at all. Or, maybe, more like him than I've ever seen."

Nick laughed. "Yeah, he's pretty weird when he wants to be, isn't he? You know, he called me at home out of the blue to look up a couple of Toronto homicide detectives? No explanation, no background, other than they were partners… He didn't even say "Bye," on the phone. Think the two could be connected? Maybe that sample was one of the detectives'."

"No, it was a sample from a baby. The telomeres had no damage due to age. But there was a weird virus too. I'd never even seen anything like it before."

"Well, don't count my theory out, man. If there was a weird virus, maybe that's the reason the telomeres were intact. It's a long shot, but there could be something to it."

"Yeah, maybe. But he won't tell us until he's good and ready, so we may as well forget it for now."

"That's for sure. So, he's still in his office, Greg?"

"Should be. I just came from there not five minutes ago."

"Thanks man," Nick called over his shoulder, and strode the few paces to Grissom's lab. "Grissom, I got those files for you. Detective Nicholas B. Knight and Detective Donald Schanke seem to be ordinary guys, despite an outstanding arrest record."

Grissom didn't look up from his microscope as he asked, "Tell me everything you found, would you?"

Nick flicked open the folder and began to read. "Detective Nicholas B. Knight, Toronto homicide detective, 96th precinct, has been awarded more honors than anyone else in the city – Toronto, that is. He and his partner have been awarded several Partners of the Month awards, and he has been cited for bravery and risking his own life to collar a suspect dozens of times. He transferred from the States - Chicago, where he was also cited for bravery, but he had no partner at the time."

Grissom interrupted him. "What about his allergies? Has he ever been shot in the line of duty?"

Nick flipped a few more pages. "Allergic to the sun and penicillin. Shot once in Toronto, in the head, resulting in a case of temporary amnesia, but never in Chicago." Nick waited, expecting another question. He wasn't disappointed.

"Family? Friends?" Grissom still spoke to the slide on his microscope.

"Umm, no family listed. Emergency contacts include his partner, the county coroner - Natalie Lambert, and a nightclub owner and late night DJ Lucien Lacroix, a.k.a. the Nightcrawler when he's on the air. There's not much more in the way of personal information. Just the basic facts, you know, age, height, hair and eye color – that kind of stuff."

"Well?" Grissom pressed.

"You want all the bio stuff?" Nick asked, confused. Grissom didn't seem to want the detective's personnel file from the police force, but the information about the detective himself. "Okay. He's 36 years old, umm, five-eleven, has blonde hair and blue eyes."

"What about Detective Schanke?"

"You want all the particulars on him too?"

Grissom finally looked up from his slide to give Nick a glare before going right back to it.

Startled, Nick gave him what he had given on Detective Knight. "Detective Donald Schanke is married with one child. His wife's name is Myra and his daughter's name is Jennifer. He has a large extended family, as does his wife. Emergency contacts are his partner, his wife, and Natalie Lambert. Allergic to bees, and he's never been shot either. He's 41, five-nine, and has brown hair and eyes." Nick stopped.

"Thanks Nick. Just leave the files on my desk would you?" Grissom asked him, his earlier annoyance apparently forgotten. That was the final straw for Nick. He had to know what Grissom was working on.

"Sure, boss, but I have to know why you wanted all of that personal information on two upstanding homicide detectives. And what are you looking at that is so fascinating over there?"

Grissom frowned. Why did he want all of that information? He couldn't say because he couldn't get an instant feel for Detective Knight besides a chill. But that was his whole reason, so he decided to come clean.

"I can't get a feel for Detective Knight," he sighed. Nick just looked at him. "Don't get me wrong, he's probably a fine officer and a nice guy, but the last time I couldn't get a feel for someone was Paul Mulander. I wanted the bio on Schanke so I could have something to compare him to, and at the very least, see what influences him."

Nick shuddered slightly at the thought of Paul Mulander. That was one creepy dude. "So, what? You don't think Knight is on the level? It was his sample, wasn't it? The one you showed Greg?" Nick asked suddenly, with a flash of insight.

"I don't know what I think, Nick," Grissom stated evenly. "That's another reason I'm looking into him. And yes, that sample I showed Greg was Detective Knight. What did he tell you he saw?"

"He said there was a weird virus and the telomeres weren't broken down at all, like it was a baby's sample."

"He's right. There's no damage at all. I'm looking at the virus now. But it seems to be dormant at the moment. I don't know what the primary vector is, or even what it might make do with. I've managed to get it to grow, but it doesn't respond well to anything. Care to have a look?"

"Sure." Grissom moved aside and Nick peered down the eyepiece at the allegedly strange virus. "Whoa, what is that?" he asked, unnerved, and leaned back down to look again. The virus had attached itself to the DNA in the hair root and had a tenacious hold. Nick didn't think that the virus could be overcome with any kind of medication, not as wrapped around the strand as it was. It was so numerous that he could see it clearly even in the compound microscope that he was using, all over the cell nuclei. Groping for the fine adjustment knob, Nick accidentally cut himself on the protruding slide and brushed the cut on the hair. Before he could do anything, a drop of blood oozed onto the slide, contaminating the sample. He swallowed hard. He'd not made this big a mistake since he'd pulled off the varnish from that Japanese sword. Thank God that had been a fake. But then he noticed something else. Maybe it would get him off the hook.

"Boss," he said, with a deep breath, "I have some good news and some bad news."

Grissom looked up sharply, to see Nick still hunched over the microscope. "What?"

"I kind of contaminated your sample. I cut myself on the slide and there was no time for me to do anything about it. But I did discover the vector for your virus." He stood and let Grissom see what was now going on under the lens.

The virus was now active and quickly attached itself to Nick's red blood cells, twining around the platelets as Grissom watched, changing whatever they touched. He straightened quickly and looked at Nick, unable to voice even one of the thoughts that were going through his mind. Finally, he blinked and closed his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he looked slowly over to Nick.

"Nick," he said, deathly calm outside, although his gut was screaming at him, "I think we need to talk to Detective Knight again. You especially. And we should look at that cut. I don't know…" he broke off, unable to continue.

Nick paled. "What? What's going on in that slide?" He'd seen the virus stir, but handed it over to Grissom before it had actually done anything.

"You'd better look for yourself." Nick paled further. It must be really terrible, if Grissom couldn't even say it. Moving to look through the eye piece again, Nick gasped. His blood was completely changed by the virus. The small amount of blood had caused the virus population to explode and his cells were covered in it. He looked at his finger in horror.

"Do… do we know what exactly this virus does?" he asked slowly, still staring at the offending digit.

"No, we don't. I've never seen anything like it before ever. Neither has Greg, and you said you hadn't either. Three trained professionals have never seen this before, so I don't think we'll just find it in some book. It says in Knight's file that his doctor is also the county coroner, Dr. Natalie Lambert. It happens that she is on vacation with Knight and the Schankes. We'll have to ask her if she knows what it is."

Nick nodded solemnly. "What should I do before we reach her?" He was beginning to feel the start of a major panic attack. Whatever that virus was, it was aggressive. Knight seemed to be in perfect health, but he could just be a carrier. There was no way to know until he talked to the detective and his doctor. He glanced at his finger again and was surprised to find that the cut was gone. It had been at least an inch long and very deep. Now there was no trace of it at all, not a scab, not a scar. There wasn't even any blood still on his finger. But it did feel very hot, like it was infected, and the feeling was starting to spread. He sat abruptly on the edge of the table. Grissom rushed to him.

"Nick? What happened? Are you feeling okay?" he questioned quickly, rushing to his colleague's side. Nick sat mute and extended his finger. Grissom gasped and grabbed his hand, looking for any sign of the cut. "Oh, my God," he whispered, uncharacteristically displaying his emotions. Then he rushed for the phone. He dialed the telephone number Knight had given him with his card and waited impatiently for him to answer.

In the hotel room, Nick's phone rang and buzzed off his nightstand. Groaning, he reached for it on the floor. When he finally got it flipped open, he muttered, "Knight. And this better be good."

"Detective Knight, I'm very sorry to be calling you in the middle of the day. I'm sure you were asleep, but we've had a sort of accident here, and we need your help along with Dr. Lambert's," Grissom hurriedly informed him. Nick was instantly awake.

"What's happened?" he questioned. He ran a vampire attack at the station through his mind before he realized that it was the middle of the afternoon.

Grissom was a little embarrassed, but he forged on. "Well, you see, Detective, I, I found a hair on the back of your chair and I took it in for some testing. I'm very sorry. I know I had no right to do so, but that is not the problem, merely the root of it." Grissom winced at his unintentional horrible pun. "I cultured a few of the cells I found in the root of the hair and found a very strange virus. One of my team was looking at it and cut his finger on the slide. The virus reacted very aggressively and practically devoured the blood introduced. Apparently, he was contaminated as well. I don't know what you have, sir, but the cut on Nick's finger has healed already, though he says it burns."

Nick gasped and nearly dropped the phone. This was not happening. This was a nightmare, brought on by the stress of the evening. No one was inadvertently infected with his evil. Nick pinched himself just to make sure, and rather harder than necessary. He yelped and Grissom became concerned.

"Detective, what? What happened?"

"Oh, my God," Nick breathed. This was happening. One of his worst nightmares. "Don't let your man leave the building," Nick commanded. "Keep him away from uncovered windows and as many people as possible, and wait for me. I'm coming in and Dr. Lambert is coming with me."

"I thought you couldn't go in the sun at all, Detective?"

"Let me worry about that, Mr. Grissom. Just do as I have asked, and I'll be there shortly."

"Of course. I'll be waiting for you." Grissom hung up and looked at Nick Stokes. "Everything will be fine, Nick. Just stay calm. He asked that you stay in the building and stay as far away from other people as you can. He'll be here with his doctor shortly." Nick nodded, feeling faint. Stay away from people? Just how contagious was this stuff? "I'll stay with you," Grissom continued, "since I may have already been exposed. But I'm going to close my door and put up my "Do Not Disturb" sign, so no one else comes in. Stay right where you are." Nick nodded again, still feeling faint and now nauseous as well. He hoped the detective would hurry. The pain in his finger had spread to the rest of his hand and up his arm. His chest and neck were beginning to burn as well, and oddly, his teeth and eyes. He pulled himself up onto the table and curled around his knees, hoping the pain would pass.

Natalie had been awakened by Nick's phone, but she remained unconcerned until she heard him yelp. "Nick, what's going on?" she asked when he hung up. She thought she'd heard him say he was going to the police station now, along with her.

Nick looked genuinely frightened. "Nat, there was a kind of lab accident over at the police station. Grissom collected some hair samples with the roots still attached from my chair and managed to culture the vampire virus from them." Natalie sat still, feeling a small moment of irrational jealousy that Grissom had been able to culture the virus when she hadn't. "One of the CSIs cut himself on the slide and was infected. I don't know how badly. It may just be temporary if the amount was that small, but I also don't know much about virology. Grissom sounded like he'd cultured a lot of the virus."

Natalie gasped. This was bad. This was very bad. "Nick, what are you going to do? What if the CSI comes across?"

"I don't think he will. It's very rare for someone to come across without being drained and then fed vampire blood. But he may very well be able to sense us if not completely becoming a Hunter," Nick told her with growing dread. He could only pray to whatever deity might listen to him that this CSI Nick was not one of the few who could be turned with no blood exchange.

"How are we going to get to the station?" Natalie continued. "It's broad daylight out. You'll fry."

"I have an idea, but we have to go and we have to go now," Nick told her. "Order a car while I get dressed, and have them meet us in the underground parking garage. I think that will be okay. You'll have to drive to the station with me in the trunk and hope they have an underground garage as well."

Nat nodded. "What about Schanke?"

"Well, since he doesn't know, he doesn't need to be informed. Hopefully, we'll be back before he misses us. Then we can go from there, in deciding what if anything to tell him."

"Sure," Natalie agreed quickly. Then she did as Nick had asked when he shut the bathroom door to dress. When she was done, he was not out and so she dressed as well, not wanting to waste any time. Together, they hurried through the hotel corridors to the underground parking garage, where the car was waiting, just as Natalie had instructed them. Nick gave the driver a hypnotic suggestion to leave and then he jumped in the trunk. Natalie drove as fast as she was able to the police station. She fervently hoped there was an underground garage for Nick to get out in. She was in luck. Swinging into a parking space, she threw the car into park and pressed the trunk release button all at once. Nick climbed out quickly and shut the top with a bang. Then they hurried through corridors once again, stopping only once to ask where Grissom's office was. Nick found it and raced through the door, Natalie struggling to keep up.

"Hello," he called. The office lab was large and mostly dark, and he didn't see anyone there. "Mr. Grissom, it's Nick Knight."

"Detective, we're over here," Grissom called, waving the two over. Nick rushed to Grissom's side, where he stood over another CSI laying on a table. The other man was groaning and clutching his head. This was not good. Nick had only seen this once, and that was when someone had come across with no blood exchange. Nick Stokes was changing before their eyes.

"How long has he been like this?" Nick asked quietly. There was nothing he could do for the man now, but he didn't know how to say so.

"Maybe twenty minutes. He cut his finger almost an hour ago, and he's gotten steadily worse since then. Just what do you have, Detective?" Grissom almost shouted. "How did you get on the force if you have something this virulent?"

Nat had been in the background. She knew as well that there was nothing to be done for the CSI. Nick had noticed a link forming and had filled her in during their sprints down the corridors. Now she looked up at the graying man before her, anger written across her face. "Now, wait just a minute, Mr. Grissom. Who are you to question Nick? You're the one who took those samples without permission anyway," she said, poking Grissom in the chest with a finger.

Nick looked back at her and softly asked, "Nat, could you go and get some of my _special_ food?" more to get her away from the scene as fast as possible than because he was hungry. It would give her something to do. "Get the original stuff, please."

Nat gave him a sharp look, but he continued. "It's not for me, it's for Nick here. He'll need it very soon." Narrowing her eyes at Grissom, Natalie went to do as Nick had asked once more.

"Special food?" Grissom inquired, calming some.

Nick closed his eyes and prepared himself to explain his condition to Grissom. "I…" he began, but broke off. "I'm not what you would call a normal guy," Nick began again.

Grissom ground his teeth together in impatience. He'd gathered that from Nick's symptoms. "Okay, Detective. What are you if you're not a normal guy?" he inquired tightly.

"Let me try to explain. First, I'm allergic to sunlight, but you know that. I'm also allergic to garlic, wood, and holy objects." Grissom looked like he might try to throttle the man standing in front of him, if he wasn't so worried for his friend.

"Just tell me what you have, Detective, and if anything can be done for Nick."

Nick sighed. "I wish there was something I could do for him, I really do. I'm…" Nick paused again. He hated to say this to anyone. "I'm a vampire, Mr. Grissom. And your friend there is fast becoming the same."

Grissom stared at him. "What are you talking about Detective? If this is some very sick joke because of this case, I'm not amused at all. My CSI looks like he's dying over there and you tell me fairy stories. That's very nice."

"Not fairy stories, Mr. Grissom. Horror stories. I am a vampire." Grissom swung a fist and caught Nick a solid unsuspecting blow, but Nick never even flinched. He did sigh. "Will you believe me if I show you?" he asked resignedly.

Grissom was surprised at his own action and Nick's lack of a reaction, and nodded reluctantly to the detective's statement. Nick drew a long breath and looked at the floor. When he looked up again, Grissom gasped. "You… You… You…" he stuttered, unable to put a single coherent sentence together. Then he watched as Nick's fangs receded and his eyes became their normal blue once more.

"I told you, Mr. Grissom. I am a vampire." It was at this moment that Nick Stokes emitted a wretched groan and turned onto his side, to vomit his lunch onto the floor. Nick rushed to him.

"What is the matter with him?" Grissom asked, very worried now for his friend.

"He is becoming what I am," Nick informed him sadly. "He must have eaten a large meal recently. That's the only thing I can think of at the moment that would make him so nauseous. The conversion isn't usually this painful either. I suspect it is because there was no blood exchange. So the virus must change all of Nick's blood instead of just a little of it."

"What can be done for him?" Grissom asked again.

"There is nothing to do but let it happen," Nick told him. "I've been searching for a cure for over a century and the only luck I've had was one day in the sun at the cost of my sanity."

Grissom tried to absorb this information, but failed miserably. He turned to his friend, unconscious on the table, but groaning in pain and shaking with dry heaves.

"Nick, can you hear me?" he asked softly. Stokes made no response except to groan again. Well, he was conscious now anyway. Maybe that was an improvement. He went to touch the young man's shoulder, but Knight stopped him.

"Don't," he warned, unaffected by the icy glare he was receiving. "Let me feed him. It may ease his pain some. I don't know, but I can certainly try." Grissom nodded once, his lips a thin line. "You may not want to watch," Nick told him, but he knew it was futile, so he ripped open his wrist with one savage swipe of his fangs and held it out to Nick Stokes' mouth. The young man and even younger vampire within him reacted immediately.

Nick Stokes shifted in pain. God, he hurt all over, with a terrible burning sensation, like fire ants had gotten into his blood. He was dimly aware of Grissom standing over him, when he fainted, and then there was nothing for a while. When he came to again, Grissom was still there and another man he didn't recognize. He looked up at both of them with pain glazed eyes and watched as the stranger cut his wrist on teeth that were far too long. He was terrified, but strangely comforted as well. When the man placed his bleeding wrist next to his mouth, Nick shrank back, remembering what the virus had done to his blood, and not knowing what the man intended to do. Then he lunged for the wrist and drank hungrily of the dark essence flowing there. The pain eased, and he drifted gratefully back into unconsciousness.

Nick watched the reactions of his young fledgling and remembered similar feelings at his own conversion, which caused him to think of Lacroix. What was Lacroix going to say? Or, rather, what was Lacroix going to do to him? Nick could think of more than a few unpleasant things. He was snapped out of his reverie when Grissom lightly shook his shoulder.

"What is going to happen to him?" he questioned.

Nick looked up at him from his position sitting on the table. "That depends on several things, Mr. Grissom. One, it depends on what Nick wants to do. Two, it depends on how I'm going to manage this, and three, maybe most important, it depends on what my mast…" Nick couldn't bring himself to say master. "It depends on what my sire has to say on the matter."

Grissom looked at him strangely. "You were going to say master, but stopped. Why? And why does it matter what he says? You are the one who," he gestured to Nick on the table.

"Yes, I'm the one who brought him across, but my master is very… How to describe him? He's very controlling, to say the least. He's frequently angry with me – enough so to beat me severely and break bones. He's very old, and very powerful, and very vindictive. He was a Roman general, if that helps your image any." Grissom's eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Lacroix's age. Neither man said anything for a long while and they were still in silence when Natalie came back with several pouches of whole human blood. "You wouldn't believe what I had to do to get this," she huffed, out of breath.

Nick looked up at her as she walked over. She knew how dangerous hungry vampires could be and remained at arm's length from the young man on the table, who was showing signs of stirring. "Thanks Nat. That will be fine for now. You and Mr. Grissom should go. Nick won't be himself for a while. I'd hate to have to bring one of you across too because he drained you."

Nat backed off quickly. She knew Nick wasn't kidding, but Grissom stayed right where he was for another few moments. Nat finally grabbed his shirt and hauled him to the other side of the room very close to the door, where he turned to her with a pained expression.

"I can't accept this," he told her. "I'm a scientist, and this is myth. There're no such things as vampires."

Natalie patted his arm consolingly. She knew just how he felt.

With the mortals away, Nick gently patted his new fledgling's cheek and prodded carefully along the new bond. Nick Stokes snapped awake, eyes glowing, but fangs not yet extended, since he felt an oddly comfortable presence nearby. He sat up slowly, mindful of the recent pain he had experienced, but he felt none of it now. As a matter of fact, he felt damn good. He looked around for Grissom, but saw only the stranger standing over him. He finally recognized Detective Knight from his photograph, and opened his mouth to talk, but found his throat too dry. He wondered briefly at the odd sensations he felt from his body and within his mind, but tried to ignore them for now.

What had happened? He'd cut his finger on the slide Grissom had shown him. Then he'd gotten sick in a matter of minutes, and the illness only got worse as the hours progressed. He knew he'd fainted from the pain and regained consciousness briefly, long enough for the man in front of him to ease the pain and send him back to sleep. But what was going on now, and where was Grissom? He looked up at Nick hovering over him, looking very worried.

"What…?" he managed, swallowing thickly. "What happened? What was that virus?"

"Nick, that wasn't really a virus. It just looks like one. I'm sorry about this whole thing, but there are some things you should know. First things first, though. I imagine you are thirsty."

Nick nodded quickly, just realizing the fact that he felt parched. The detective handed him an odd bag that he couldn't quite identify in the gloom of the lab. But he quickly found the spout and drained its contents before questioning. Then he gagged. It was blood! And to make matters worse, it had tasted good – he wanted more.

Sensing his fledgling's distress, Nick handed over the remaining packets before he had a chance to object to the nourishment. While he may have been able to survive on cow, new fledglings needed pure human. When he was done, he looked up at Nick with questioning eyes, still blazing vampiric gold.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked the young one before him. The CSI nodded.

"Do I want to know why I just drank blood, Detective?" he asked, his Texas drawl more pronounced in his nervousness.

"You might as well call me Nick, if that's not too awkward for you," he told the CSI, and sidestepped the issue frantically. He didn't want a fledgling! None of this was his fault! But the feeling soon passed when he realized the young man was still waiting for an answer. "Go look in the mirror," Nick told him. Stokes was puzzled, but he did as he was bidden, recoiling in horror at his first glimpse.

"What do you have? What do I have?" he shouted.

Nick sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. The boy hadn't even seen his own fangs yet and he was repulsed. Grissom came over then, to calm his friend, but Stokes was still hungry and his vampiric senses caught the sound and scent of a mortal heart pumping blood. Without realizing it, he snapped around and began to stalk his boss until a strong hand gripped his shoulder. He turned then and hissed at the intruder, but was instantly subdued by a presence in his mind that spoke of the power of centuries.

"Mr. Grissom, please go back and wait with Natalie," he said in clipped tones. "I will deal with this." Grissom nodded and backed off. His CSI had thoroughly frightened him. "Nick, look at me," he demanded. Stokes had himself under his tenuous control again and obeyed. He quickly backed away when he saw Nick's eyes and fangs. He clamped his mouth shut when he realized it was hanging open, only to cut himself on his own newly extended eye teeth. He yelped and his hand flew to his mouth to feel the strange new additions, running his tongue over them as well. Then he yanked on one frantically, as though to pull it out.

"It's alright," Nick soothed him. "It's alright. Don't pull on them. They're what you are now," he told him, gently pulling the young vampire's hand from his teeth. Stokes looked more frightened than ever and he could feel the bond between them thrumming soothingly as well. He didn't know if he liked that or not. Abruptly, he needed to sit. It was all too much for him at once. Groping for a chair, he sat down heavily, his face in his hands.

"Tell me straight, man. You're a vampire aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. So are you." Stokes shook his head in denial.

"But you don't exist. This is a bad dream, that's all. One hell of a nightmare from a spoiled burrito." He managed a nervous laugh through his fingers.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Nick. This is a real as it gets, I'm afraid. You are a vampire, and I am your master." Stokes started at the word. "Sorry, sire if you prefer." Nick shook his head in denial again.

"Sire, master, whatever," he mumbled, unable to look the detective in the eye. "That doesn't mean a thing to me. I'm my own, you hear?" he demanded, although it had a faintly plaintive note, like he was trying to reassure himself of the fact.

Sadly, Nick shook his own head in denial. "You are yours to me. I won't make you do anything, but in the eyes of the Community, you are mine. I own you and have a responsibility to you, as a parent does a child." Tentatively Nick probed the new bond between them again, to get a sense of his new child's feelings over his last statement.

Nick felt the small invasion of his mind and looked up sharply. "You're in my mind, aren't you?" he accused. "Get out, just get out of my head," he almost sobbed. The separation that ensued as Nick complied with the words hurt him almost as much as the initial pain had, which confused him more. He wanted his thoughts to himself, but he didn't want to be without the detective's presence? What was more, he wanted to hug the man and cling to him like a child, but he'd barely known him an hour. "What is happening to me?" he finally asked when Nick had been silent for a while, both through the link and verbally.

Nick sighed once again. The pain of separation from one's master wasn't pleasant for a vampire of any age. When he'd killed Lacroix several years back, the hole in his mind was almost unbearable, and he shuddered to think of what Lacroix felt everyday since his master, Divia was permanently dead. It may have been the only reason Nick had ever felt sorry for the ancient. But he would try to respect his fledgling's wishes.

"May I open the link again?" he asked. Nick nodded miserably. The compulsion to wrap his arms around the detective still hadn't gone away. In fact, it had worsened with the closing of his mind. Nick opened the link again at the young one's permission and gently found what had him so upset. The boy wanted to be close to him, to his master, but social constraints held him back, since in reality they were practically strangers.

"You want me to tell you about myself so we won't be strangers anymore?" Nick asked him. Stokes was startled. He hadn't realized the man could read his thoughts so accurately, but he nodded his approval. "My real name is Nicholas de Brabant. I was born in the year 1196 A.D. I fought in the Crusades as penance for a crime I didn't commit. I was brought across in 1228 by my master, Lacroix." Nick continued to fill him in about his days of killing, and how eventually he found it distasteful, and then about his search for mortality. When he finished, another hour and a half had passed and the mortals had slipped from the room.

"Wow," Nick commented when the detective was done. "You're nearly 800 years old."

"My master is older than that," Nick told him truthfully. He had purposely left out much of his master's doings during his tale. Stokes looked at him, disbelief written all over his face.

"How old is he?"

"Lacroix was brought across the night Mt. Vesuvius erupted. That was in 79 A.D."

Stokes gave a low whistle. "Almost 2000 years old." Nick nodded solemnly.

"And he won't be very happy with me about you," he told the young man softly. "He doesn't approve of my search for mortality. He may try to take you from me, to teach you himself. If he does, I'll fight for you, but there won't be much I can do," he said honestly. "He has more than a full millennium on me and he feeds from human blood regularly." Stokes nodded, looking fearful. "If that happens, you'll just have to go with him and do as he says. It's better than the alternative."

"I understand," Stokes said, more bravely than he felt, unaware of the fearful vibrations he was putting off and his master's ability to read them perfectly. Still, Nick Knight more than understood the need to put on a brave front for the world.

"Would you feel more comfortable hugging me now?" he lightly teased the fledgling.

Stokes half grinned at him. "I think I'll wait awhile on that one, if you don't mind."

Nick smiled back. "I understand more than you know, believe me."

Stokes' smile faded. "But there is something… I don't know how to describe it. It's like I'm still hungry, but not." He blushed as much as he was now able and hung his head, embarrassed.

"You want my blood," he told the younger man matter-of-factly, and rolled up his sleeve. Nick just stared at him. "It's alright, Nick. Take what you need. It won't hurt me or you. As a matter of fact, it will make you feel better."

"I… I thought vampires drank from the neck," he stammered.

"We can. But I didn't think you would want to. Not yet, anyway. The wrist is just as good and considerably less…intimate."

Nick looked relieved. "Thanks," he said, as he reached for the proffered arm. Then he realized that his fangs had retracted. He didn't really know how to bring them out again, so he stopped and sent a questioning gaze to his maker. The detective showed him silently how to press on his teeth to make his fangs extend. With that small lesson learned, Nick bit into the wrist in front of him. Happiness filled him as he drank, so much so that he became embarrassed again and stopped.

"What's the matter with me?" he asked, licking his teeth.

"Not a thing," Nick told him. "Give me your wrist." His fledgling hesitated, so he explained himself. "Your coming across was different than most. A master usually takes blood before giving his own. Since you were infected accidentally, I didn't have the chance. It will make it easier for you in the long run, if I drink from you now."

Nick was still hesitant, but he extended his own wrist to the man in front of him, who bit down with perfect skill into a major artery. Nick wondered for a moment at the lack of pain from the bite and the fact that such large wounds could be gouged in an artery without causing fatal blood loss. Knight didn't drink much at all, but Nick felt oddly calm after the process was done. He watched the wounds close, like surreal zippers and wondered again at the new sensations coursing through him. He could hear everything, and not just conversations, but heartbeats – hundreds of them, it seemed, pounding away. Not only that, he seemed to be aware of Detective Knight on a higher level than the physical. The detective's being called to him, and he could faintly feel himself responding in kind. He looked to his sire once again.

"You have many questions, I'm sure," Nick stated. "But for now, you need to go home and rest. I'll tell you anything you want to know and probably a few things you don't as soon as you are settled."

"But, I have to work tonight. I'm on that alley case you called in, along with everyone else."

Nick shook his head. "Grissom knows what you just went through. He knows what I am and what you now are. I'm sure he'll give you some time off."

"It's all that killer's fault about me, if you think about it," Nick said. "If he hadn't killed that man, you wouldn't have found him, and Grissom would never have met you."

"It's no use blaming people now. It's done and it can't be undone, since it's in the past," Nick told him, using one of Natalie's lines to himself.

"Oh, this is miserable though. I loved my life. I loved the sun and food, and everything human…" he trailed off. Nick felt for him. He knew all too well the longing for human things. After all, he'd lived with it for more than a century.

"I know exactly how you feel, trust me. But let's get you home. It's dark now, so you'll be fine going outside."

As they walked down the hallways, several people tried to stop them to talk to CSI Stokes. Nick fended them off as best he could, but he could tell his fledgling was losing what little control he possessed. The only ones he couldn't successfully deflect were the members of Grissom's team. None of them knew about their friend's recent conversion and Nick didn't have a mind to tell them either, after Knight's tale which included run-ins with the Enforcers. The last person who stopped them was Nick's best friend Warrick Brown.

"Nick, there you are. I've been looking all over for you. No one could find you all day. I asked Grissom and he said you weren't feeling well. Looks like you're doing okay now, though. How are you feeling? Up to a little leg work tonight? We're going to check out the casino where the con man was last seen alive. Maybe someone can tell us something about the killer."

"I'm actually not feeling well at all, Warrick. I only came in to give Grissom some research he asked for. I'm heading home to do some more, since I'm feeling under the weather. Detective Knight here is coming with me so I can research Canadian files as well without having to go through all the red tape."

"Oh, sorry to hear that man. I'll ask Sara to come with me then. See you tomorrow?"

"I don't know, man. Could be a while. I'm really not feeling myself."

"Well, get better soon." Warrick clapped him on the shoulder and walked off. Nick could see the amber lights starting to come in Stokes' eyes from the strain of not attacking the mortal.

"Come on Nick," he said. "We're almost to the door. You can make it. Just concentrate on yourself and ignore the rest of the world. That's it," he said, when the young man took a deep breath and seemed to relax.

"I can't believe how hard it is not to attack them now," Stokes muttered when they finally got into his car. "First Grissom and then Warrick. How long do you think it will be until I don't think of them as food?" he asked with a quirk of his lips.

"That depends solely on you," Nick told him. "The better you feed at regular intervals, the easier it is to control the beast. Control also comes with time, which is why I'm able to drink cow's blood and not attack them."

"And I can't drink cow's blood?"

"No, you can't. But you don't have to worry about killing anyone for it either. There are places around that cater to us and they serve expired blood from hospitals. It's perfectly fine for us," he added quickly, when Nick's face crumpled in disgust.

"So, if it's all donated now, why don't you drink it?" Nick challenged.

"I suppose I could. To tell you the truth, I've wanted to ever since blood donation became common. And now I might have to anyway."

"Why is that?"

"Well, mostly because of you." Stokes looked embarrassed. "It's nothing personal, but since fledglings require only human, the master has to drink human too if he's to teach the fledgling what they need to know and if a strong link is to be formed. My only question is whether or not you want a strong link with me."

"What would that involve?" Stokes questioned uncertainly.

"It would require both of us to frequently drink large amounts of the other's blood in a very short period of time," Nick told him with complete candor.

"And you did this with your master?"

"Yes, but Lacroix didn't give me a choice in the matter. It was a long time before I even realized it was a choice for most of the Community. I resented him even more after that. But I'm not him, Nick. I won't make you do anything of the sort. I will tell you though, that as much as I regret not having a choice in the matter and as annoying as it is when I don't want to be found, it has been useful in many situations. Lacroix knows where to find me if I'm in trouble. And he is so possessive that he would never allow anyone to harm me."

"Kind of like no one else is allowed to hurt you but him, huh?"

"Precisely." Nick grinned sardonically.

"I want to do it," Stokes said unexpectedly. Nick was startled.

"Why?"

"I just thought it might be, well, interesting to be so attuned to someone. And it might give you more of a chance to continue teaching me if there's already a bond, if Lacroix doesn't approve of me, right?"

"I suppose. Well, if you're completely sure, then I'm for it."

Stokes drew a long breath. "I'm sure."

Nick pondered the CSI's decision for the rest of the ride. When the car finally pulled into a driveway in a residential area, he was resigned to the other man's wishes and resolved not to ask for any more reasons. If this was what the man wanted, then so be it.

"Here we are," Stokes said when they got out of the car, and waved his hand to encompass the house and lawn. "Damn," he said suddenly, which caused Nick to pause.

"What's the matter?"

"I just realized I have to hire someone to do yard work for me. I can't very well cut grass at midnight. The neighbors wouldn't like it."

The detective just smiled and shook his head. "I'm sure there's a kid around here who would jump at the chance for a job. Let's go inside."

Stokes led the way, unlocking the door and throwing his hat and sunglasses on a nearby table. With no thought at all, he flopped on the couch and motioned for the detective to sit as well. Nick chose a chair at an easy angle to the couch and sat.

"Now what?" Stokes questioned, looking up at the ceiling.

"Now you adjust," Nick told him. "You'll need better blinds than you have and heavy drapes to keep out the sun. But for today, you can hang some blankets over the windows. You should throw out most of the perishable food now rather than when it goes bad. It'll be easier." Nick wrinkled his nose at the memory of some dish Natalie had left in his fridge which had spoiled. With his sensitive nose it had smelled positively awful. "You should keep some nonperishable stuff around in case of mortal company. It doesn't look too good to have bare cabinets. Trust me."

Stokes had never even thought of these details. He was glad someone did though. "What about something I can actually eat?" he inquired, still feeling uncomfortable with his new diet.

"Hmmm, I don't know the local supplier, but I can make a few calls to find out. For now, you can go to the local Community's gathering spot to feed. It'll probably be a bar. Ever go anywhere you thought was strange?"

"There was this one club downtown that served absinth. It was a pretty gothic kind of place. As a matter of fact, it was where we questioned suspects in the "vampire" murder a few months ago," Nick chuckled. "And I thought they were all just lonely college kids looking for attention. Guess I was wrong about that, huh?"

"You're actually not far off. Most of those places attract more than the average amount of lonely college kids. And then again, some of the less flashy ones were bound to be the real thing. But you'd never know it."

"The code, right? Thou shalt not reveal thyself to a mortal."

Nick laughed outright at the archaic rendition of the vampire code coming from such a young man, which made Stokes grin broadly.

"I guess you don't hear that much anymore, huh?" he queried. Nick continued to laugh.

"No, I don't, thank goodness. It was dreadfully clumsy way to talk, even back then." Stokes stopped laughing abruptly.

"You and I are going to live forever aren't we?"

"We very well could if no one ever finds a cure."

Stokes looked thoughtful for a moment. "You said a…master had to drink human blood in order to teach a fledgling their skills, right?"

Nick was thrown for a moment by the abrupt topic change, but nodded anyway.

"Well, what are they?"

"Oh, umm, flight, hypnotism, and control of your strength mostly. Plus the link. You need to be trained to use it, to find other vampires."

"Flight? As in off the ground with no plane?" Nick didn't like heights. He'd tried parasailing once to conquer his fear, but it hadn't helped much.

Nick noticed his fledgling's renewed fear immediately. "It's not as terrifying as you might think. In fact, it's the thing I would miss most if I did become human again."

Stokes was unconvinced. "What if I'm learning and I fall?"

"You'll heal with a good feeding. But you'll start with simple levitation off the floor a few inches. Nothing drastic – not for a while anyway. If it makes you feel better, I was terrified to fly too. Lacroix was easier to get along with back then, but he had no patience for fear of any kind."

"What did he do to you?" Stokes was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"He carried me as far up as he was able to fly and dropped me." Both men shuddered at the thought.

"He dropped you? What did you do?"

"I flew. It was either that or hit the ground with a very nasty crunch. Speedy healing or not, that wouldn't have been agreeable."

Stokes laughed nervously. "No, I guess it wouldn't be nice at all. You won't drop me, will you?"

"No, I won't." Stokes relaxed somewhat. "But I might just push you off the top of a casino," Nick added teasingly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was joking!" he exclaimed as he felt the young man's tension triple again and heard his undead heart beating faster than was good for it.

"Holy cow, man! Don't say stuff like that! You scared the Hell out of me."

"I wouldn't do that. I promise. Any risk you take will be yours and yours alone."

"I appreciate that."

The men fell silent for a while. Stokes was exploring his new senses. He simply couldn't believe how enhanced they all were. He felt like he had never seen or smelled or heard the world before. And the feel of the fabric of the couch under his fingers was something he had never felt before either, or he'd taken for granted. But now he could feel every pill and every thread clearly. His sense of taste was different altogether from a mortal's. He could taste the blood he drank, taste the metallic quality, but it wasn't only that. He tasted and then felt the life in the blood.

Nick was trying to reach his own master through the link. He wanted to give Lacroix a heads up before Nick Stokes simply showed up on the radar, so to speak. Maybe if he had fair warning, he wouldn't be so angry. Then again, maybe he'd like Stokes if only for the fact that it meant Nick had to drink human blood to train him. In which case, Natalie would be upset with him. He couldn't win this one.

"So," Stokes said. "When were we going to…link?"

"Today, if you want," Nick answered promptly.

"Oh."

Both men lapsed into silence again.

"But I can't teach you very well without the link first. I can't even teach you to use it until it's established, obviously. That has to be the first thing we do."

Stokes nodded and extended his wrist. Nick took it gently. "How much will you drink?"

"A lot," Nick told him vaguely. He didn't want to frighten the boy. Forming a strong link after one was brought across was a satisfying, almost erotic experience, and he didn't want the fledgling to panic, especially since he seemed to be so masculine. Stokes already had a hard enough time with wanting to hug him! Then Nick sank his fangs into the willing flesh and began to drink. Slowly at first, but with ever increasing speed and urgency. It wasn't often that he drank blood directly from the source, and he didn't have to stop with this one. He could drink his fill and not harm the man he drank from. As he took from Stokes' wrist, he extended his own so they could drink together. It would help to cement the bond if they could both taste their own blood mixed with the other's.

Stokes sank his fangs more awkwardly. He laughed at himself mentally for the minor jealousy he felt. Of course Nick had more experience. He was almost 800 years old. But it didn't really matter. He hit the artery and cold blood flooded his mouth. He knew he'd done this before when Nick had eased his pain in the lab, but he didn't remember much. The next time was hazy as well, since he was still recovering and in shock. This time he was fully awake and coherent and could see the memories flash past almost too fast to acknowledge. Times long past flew by him and he was awed by the knowledge of ages contained in Nick's blood.

Both drank on until they tasted themselves mixed in each other's blood. They had ceased to be entirely themselves, and it frightened Stokes some. He broke away first before he had really had a chance to taste himself completely, and licked his teeth once again, breathing very hard.

"You taste like honey and wine," he gasped, for lack of anything else to say. The images in his brain had still not calmed.

"I've been told as much," Nick commented, and waited for his fledgling to recover himself before attempting any heavy conversation. Eight hundred years of another person's life was hard to take in all at once.

"Will it always be like that?"

"With one of us, yes. With mortals, less so."

"That was intense. I didn't feel anything like that when I drank that blood back at the station."

"You were very hungry. Your body just wanted the nutrition, so your mind ignored everything else. And vampires have more to see – the longer you live, the more memories you have. So, how are you feeling now? Getting a handle on it?"

"Yeah, some. How often will we have to do that?"

"At least a few more times. I should be able to clearly read any thought you have, and you should be able to at least sense my ideas if not the thoughts exactly."

"Oh. So, you mind if I ask what's going to sound like a stupid question?"

"Ask away."

"What do I taste like?"

"Spicy. Like hot peppers."

"Hot peppers? I taste like Tex-Mex?" Stokes began to laugh. "Sara told me I ate so many spicy burritos that I was going to turn into one. I wonder what she would say if I told her that? She'd probably think I was crazy – Tex-Mex. That is classic." And he fell into another bout of laughter, bordering on giggles. Nick could only watch in amusement. It was good that the boy could still laugh at all, since this whole ordeal had been one big accident he'd never asked for, or even imagined, for that matter.

Grissom and Natalie stayed in his office for a while, listening to Nick's life story. When it was clear that neither Nick was going anywhere for a while, Grissom turned to her.

"Would you like to come to the morgue with me? Detective Knight told me you were a coroner and you did the work ups on a similar case in Toronto. Maybe you could lend Doc Robbins a hand? I'm thinking you can offer some unique insight," he commented, inclining his head in Nick's direction.

"I'd love to. I've heard this story anyway," she told him with a slight smile. Grissom gave her a sideways look but didn't say anything directly about her odd sense of humor.

"Oh, you'll get along just fine with Doc Robbins." Natalie flashed him another grin.

"It's a coroner's thing, I guess. Joke about your work, or let it get to you."

"Uh huh."

"Hi Al," Grissom called as he walked through the big swinging doors of the morgue.

Doc Robbins had the body all laid out on the cold metal slab and he was preparing to start the Y-incision in the man's chest. Natalie felt right at home. "_Well, I guess a morgue's a morgue_," she thought to herself, and waited to be introduced.

"Evening, Gil. Who's she here to identify?" he asked, gesturing to Natalie.

"No one. Doctor Robbins, this is Doctor Lambert, from Toronto. She's with the two detectives who found the body. They had a similar case a few years back and I asked her if she wouldn't mind giving us some insight."

"Oh. I'm sorry Doctor Lambert. I guess I'm not used to coroners being so young and pretty. My name is Al, by the way," he informed her and held out his hand to shake. She noticed for the first time that he was wearing a crutch, but it didn't seem to hinder him at all.

Natalie blushed at the compliment and accepted his handshake. "Thank you, Al. My name is Natalie."

"Well Natalie, let me get you up to speed. The deceased is Bryan Desmond – con man. Thirty-two years old, five-ten, 165 pounds. External injuries include two punctures in his neck, which extend down through the jugular vein, and some minor abrasions and bruising around the heels of his palms, most likely from a fall, also indicated by the bruising to his lower lumbar region. There don't seem to be any defensive wounds at all. I was just about to start the internal. Care to assist? How about you, Gil?"

"I think I'll watch this one, Doc."

"Sure. Natalie?"

"I'd love to help. I secretly can't stand vacations," she told him in a stage whisper.

"I don't blame you. Aprons, gloves, and goggles are all over there," he informed her, pointing with his crutch to a metal locker at the rear of the room. Nat strode to the cabinet and selected an apron. Then she pulled on a pair of gloves and reached for a visor. When she was all dressed, she rejoined Doc Robbins at the table. Grissom stood off to the side, far enough away to avoid any blood that might splatter should either doctor hit a gas bubble.

Doc Robbins then turned on a tape recorder and ran through the formalities. "Case number 129 dash 8973, Desmond, Bryan. Primary medical examiner: Doctor Al Robbins, Las Vegas Police Department. Assisting: Doctor Natalie Lambert, of the Toronto Metro Police Department, Canada. Observing: CSI Gil Grissom. Deceased is thirty-two, male, Caucasian, and in relatively good shape. Apparent cause of death: exsanguination. External wounds include puncture wounds on the right side of the neck at the third and fourth cervical vertebra, severing the jugular vein, abrasions and bruising on the heels of the palms, and bruising around the lower pelvic region and coccyx. Preparing to make a "Y-incision" in the deceased's thoracic region to determine that other factors did not aid in the victim's demise…" He continued in this manner for the whole of the exam, occasionally asking Natalie a question.

When the exam was over, Doc Robbins still had more questions than answers. "Cause of death was indeed exsanguination. But there were no wounds large enough for him to bleed out from. I already got the tox screen back and there were no drugs in his system that would have immobilized him. And no defensive wounds. That is what gets me. This guy was young, strong, and healthy and he didn't even put up a fight. Then he was drained of his blood by two wounds seemingly not large enough for the job."

Natalie had figured that this would be the case. Actual vampire murders were never clean cut and left a lot of questions unanswered unless you specifically knew what you were dealing with. But she did have another theory to offer to the frustrated medical examiner.

"You know, the assailant could have been much bigger than him and held him immobilized. That might be why there are no defensive wounds."

"And the blood loss? He couldn't hold him long enough for those wounds to bleed out by themselves."

"No, but the case I worked back in Toronto involved an orderly who worked in a blood mobile. Maybe our man here had a small air compressor rigged up, which would explain the rapidity of the blood loss."

Doc Robbins was unconvinced. "An air compressor? Who lugs something like that around? And what did he do with all the blood? The techs didn't find more than a few drops."

"Maybe it was in the alley already. And like I said, the blood mobile guy packaged it up and gave it to the hospital with the regular donations."

"How would he know what alley the vic was going to run into?"

"Maybe it was just the closest one and he figured any potential victim would take advantage of the nearest shelter."

"Could be. But the odds of that happening are slim. Are you saying he only killed the victim because he went into that specific alley, and if he'd run past it, he'd still be alive?"

"I don't know, Al. All of this is conjecture. I'm just offering scenarios here." _And protecting your life in the mean time_, she thought.

"Well, we know what the victim died of at least. When we catch the perp, we can ask him how and why."

"I guess." Natalie knew the perpetrator would never be brought in. No matter how much Nick despised what his Community did, he couldn't jeopardize his whole race by bringing in a vampire suspect. The matter would be taken care of internally and Las Vegas would have another one for the unsolved cabinet.

"So, you're alright for the moment?" Nick questioned when Stokes had calmed some.

"I think I'll be fine for a while. But I don't think the whole thing has hit me yet. I'll let you know when it has."

"Oh, I'll know."

"Yeah, I guess you would, huh?"

Nick just gave his fledgling a half a grin in response.

"So, will you tell me more about Lacroix? You left him out of a lot of your story, but I kept seeing him in your blood. He seems really confusing. I mean, you've told me some stuff he's done and I saw some other things, but I also saw a nicer side farther back in your memories."

"He was nicer to me once – when I killed indiscriminately. He was like a father, brother, and best friend then. We were a team for a long time. We hunted together almost every night."

"Well, what happened? You said you started to feel guilty, but I want to know why. And why was he so angry with you?"

"I had always felt a little remorse. But when I was young, all I wanted was Lacroix's approval, so I buried it so deep that I convinced myself it wasn't there anymore. Then, I met Joan of Arc. She saw me for what I was – an immortal man afraid to die. Ironic comes to mind. I still believed in Christian ideals and values. Those values said "Thou shalt not kill," and I broke that very basic rule regularly. To my mind and hers, I was damned and I couldn't very well ask for forgiveness when just being in a church made me queasy and crosses set me on fire."

"Crosses set you on fire?"

"Back then they did. I can hold them now and just get slightly singed." Nick smiled another lopsided grin, this one directed at himself. "I spent the day in a church too. You'll have to meet Father Rochefort someday."

"Do I want to know about this?"

"I passed out on him. And I mean on him, literally. I fell into his arms."

"You did not! You passed out on a priest?"

"In my defense, he was angry and shouting at me with a huge cross behind him. You try it some time. Upset religious are not fun for us to be around. It hadn't helped that I'd spent the day in the confessional – one of the holiest places in the cathedral. I was already sick and tired, not to mention hungry."

"And you voluntarily spent the day in a church because…"

"It was a case. A man was killing people in the church who he thought were sinners. He'd confessed to Father Rochefort once but he wouldn't tell us who the man was, or even if he'd heard his voice before. I wanted to catch the guy, but obviously stake-out duty outside was out of the question, so I sat in the confessional booth all day."

"Wow, man. I don't suppose there's any chance of me doing that any time soon, is there?"

"No, I wouldn't recommend it for a few hundred years. You'll gain tolerance in time, like everything else, I suppose, but for now, just stay as far from churches and the religious as you can."

"Check. Now, about Lacroix?"

"Oh, right. Anyway, he was angry with me because I still felt remorse. I started to kill only the guilty as I saw them. They were hardly ever what Lacroix would call "worthy prey." They were almost all criminals and prostitutes and the like. Lacroix taught me to seek out refinement whenever I could. He liked to feed on artists and noblemen. He thought my choices were an embarrassment, and that is one thing he could never stand. Humiliation does not suit him at all well."

"So you fed on those you thought deserved it and he didn't approve, so he…" Stokes didn't know how to continue.

"He beat me severely, many times over the course of the years," Nick finished for him, no trace of embarrassment in his voice. He could tell Stokes was startled by his forthrightness and continued. "The way I see it, his punishments are a penance. If that is how I have to pay for my sins, and is also the price of living rightly, then so be it. It's better than Hell, I guess. Although, my life has seemed a lot like it at times."

Stokes was silent for a while, confused. "Well, that leaves Lacroix in just one place. But where does that leave people like myself? I didn't choose this, but I'm sure not going for a walk in the sun any time soon just because it happened."

"I know that. I don't believe anymore that vampires are inherently evil. I was, for a long time, and so, I have to pay for it. But you and the younger ones, who don't have to kill, or who have found some way to absolve themselves…" Nick broke off. He was thinking of Erica, his lovely playwright, who had killed herself when she became a burden. True, she had committed suicide, but she hadn't allowed herself to become a drain on society. He simply couldn't walk into the sun, though.

Stokes was hit with a sense of melancholy so fast and strong he had to close his eyes to prevent tears. But he knew he wasn't sad. _It must be Nick's feelings_, he thought to himself. Cautiously, tentatively, he tried to open the link he had with the man in front of him. He didn't know how it worked, but he could distantly feel fuzzy ideas about a woman.

"Nick, do you want to tell me about her?" the younger man asked softly.

Nick smiled. Maybe a fledgling would be a good thing after all. "That's impressive," he stated. "I couldn't sense more of Lacroix than his presence for a very long time. Of course, he probably didn't want me to, or maybe he just didn't have any emotions very often. In any case, the woman's name was Erica. She was a friend and one of the vampires who found a way to absolve themselves. She died not too long ago, when she couldn't do it anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Losing friends is never easy. I know. Most of my friends are cops or CSIs and ours isn't a very safe line of work, as you very well know. I've lost several friends in the line of duty."

"It never gets any easier," Nick commented. "Eight hundred years and I still sometimes feel sadness over friends I lost to Father Time centuries ago."

Stokes didn't quite know what to say to that. It was yet another thing he hadn't thought of. But something else struck him at the moment.

"Nick, what about my family and friends? I know they can't all know about me, but sooner or later they'll notice I don't seem to get any older."

"There are a couple of vampires within the Community who help others to create new identities when they have to move on for whatever reason. An incarnation can last up to ten years, sometimes, if all goes well, and then you'll have to move on. Very close friendships are undesirable for us, except with our own kind, since good friends tend to want to write to you or get together, and it's too messy to fake your death all the time. To get out of your original life, you may just have to fake your own death though, which effectively deals with all family and friends' relationships. But you shouldn't need to do that for a while. Like I said, you probably have about ten years in a certain life.

"A new identity for every decade? That could be interesting. Think of all the different people you could be, since pop culture changes by decade," Stokes mused.

"I know." Nick grinned. "See, there are some advantages to our life." He punched his fledgling on the shoulder companionably, but his thoughts had already taken a different turn. _Oh, Lacroix might just approve of him after all. How many times has he told me there were advantages, if I would only look for them?_ That did it. He had to call his master to let him know exactly what was going on, since the ancient seemed to be closed off to him for some unknown reason.

"May I use your phone?" he asked his fledgling. "I have to call Lacroix. I can't reach him through our link. He's blocking me out for some reason," he explained.

Stokes was startled at the abruptness of the request, but nodded in its direction.

In the Raven, Lacroix was sitting at the bar, brooding into a goblet of his finest reserve. He'd closed himself to his son since the boy was on vacation, and he didn't know what to do with himself. His Nightcrawler messages were uninspiring, since the one member of the audience that mattered was not in town to hear his ramblings, and Janette was who knew where at the moment. He drained the potent stuff in his glass and started to signal Patrick to pour him another and leave the bottle. When his hand was barely in the air, Patrick came scurrying over. But instead of a bottle, he carried the cordless phone.

He raised an eloquent eyebrow at the bartender. Few people would call for him here, and fewer still would make it past Patrick. Besides, the portly bartender never moved that fast unless something important was happening. Lacroix could almost guess who it was before Patrick spoke.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Boss, but your, uh, son, is on the line for you," Patrick stammered.

_Oh really?_ Lacroix thought. It could only mean the boy was in trouble of some kind. He never called just to say hello. "Very well, Patrick," he said aloud. "Let me speak to him." The bartender hastily handed over the unit and returned to his customers. Lacroix put the phone to his ear.

"Good evening, Nicholas," he intoned. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call? Feeling homesick at camp, are we?" Lacroix couldn't resist baiting his son just a little. In reality, he was thrilled to hear from him.

Nick ignored the jibe. He had bigger fish to fry, and getting upset was the last thing he needed to do. "Good evening, Lacroix," he replied calmly. "I have some…news to tell you."

"I gathered as much. Whom did you offend? What mortal resistor saw you this time?" Lacroix was slightly annoyed that Nicholas hadn't responded to his "homesick at camp" comment, and laid more venom into his barbs.

Nick heard his father getting annoyed and decided to come right down to business after the last two questions. Otherwise, this might turn out very ugly, indeed.

"Neither one of those things, Father," he said softly, hoping the seldom used endearment would diffuse the situation. He heard Lacroix start at the word and continued. "But there has been an interesting development here." Nick paused, waiting for the ancient to respond.

"I am listening Nicholas. Do go on."

"Well, Schanke and I were walking down the strip when I felt a presence and heard a scream."

"And you ran to investigate, no doubt," Lacroix interrupted him.

"Yes. We found a body in an alley and called the local police department. The CSI in charge, a man named Gil Grissom, was suspicious of me from the very beginning. I don't know why. You know how some people are just sensitive to us anyway? Well he seems to be one of them, even if he doesn't know it."

"Yes, yes, Nicholas. Get to the point."

"Of course. He is a scientist through and through and he ran some tests on one of my hairs that he found. Well, he cultured the vampire virus…" Nick heard Lacroix snort at the mention of a virus being responsible for vampirism. "I know you don't believe that's the cause, and Nat says it's really not a virus anyway, just an easy term, but that's beside the point. One of the men on his team accidentally infected himself."

Lacroix hissed, sharply drawing a breath before he spoke. "The man is a hunter?"

"No, Lacroix. He is a vampire. My fledgling, now. He's one of those rare few who can be turned with no blood exchange."

Lacroix jumped up from his stool. "What?" he roared at his son, before starting to rant in Old Latin, too fast for Nick to catch more than a few words. But what he did hear was not good. Ancient curses came over the phone line, not heard in a millennium. The patrons closest to Lacroix scuttled away swiftly to avoid the owner's obvious rage.

Nick was frightened. The link was wide open now and pulsing with rage, and the tone of the mostly unintelligible rant made it worse. He'd never had Lacroix angry enough for him to rant in Latin before. But since he was using that language, Nick decided to put his own minimal Latin skills to use.

"Dominus, tuus ira me terret. Vide ratio, tuus oro. Ille puer esse mea filius, et sum tuus. Facio ut tu imperus," he stuttered, pausing often to search for long forgotten words. (Master, your anger frightens me. See reason, I beg you. The boy is my son, and I am yours. I do as you command.) That was the best Nick could manage and he was sure it wasn't correct, but it did its job. Nick felt the ancient's anger fade through the link before he heard the low chuckle on the other end.

"Your Latin is atrocious, Nicholas. And when have you ever done as I command? Nonetheless, it was very effective, my son."

Nick knew that was as close to an apology as he was ever going to get.

"I don't have much call to use it, Sire," Nick said smiling slightly. "And it was all I could think of at the moment. I meant to say, I'll do as you tell me to. You really did frighten me, you know. You've never been angry enough to shout in Latin before."

"Your news was simply unexpected, Nicholas. And it is quite late here. I fear that I was not fully awake, besides having more wine than was probably reasonable this evening. Tell me about this new addition to the family then."

"Perhaps you should speak with him yourself, Lacroix. I think you'll approve of him. His name is Nick, too, by the way."

"Very well, Nicholas. Give him the phone."

Nick signaled to the younger man and handed him the phone. "Hello?" Stokes said uncertainly.

"Good evening, young Nicholas," Lacroix fairly purred, pouring his innate power into his voice, quite possibly his most powerful weapon. "My Nicholas has told me nothing of you as yet, except that you too are a police officer. Please do fill in the details."

Nick could feel power radiating from the voice on the phone and he didn't even have a direct link with it. He gulped audibly before speaking. "Good evening to you, sir. What would you like to know?"

"Anything you wish to tell me."

"Oh. Alright. My name is Nick Stokes, and I'm a crime scene investigator here in Las Vegas. I'm from Texas originally, though, and I turned thirty-one this year. I guess Nick already told you I accidentally infected myself. I can't think of much more to tell you, sir." Stokes was almost trembling by now as he sensed more and more power radiating from the being on the other end of the line.

Lacroix chuckled, a deliberately low, menacing sound as he too sensed the young one's fear through the bond he shared with Nicholas and more indirectly with the fledgling. "Very well. Put Nicholas back on."

Stokes handed the phone over at once. "Lacroix?"

"Yes, Nicholas, a most admirable young man, it would seem. He lasted longer than I expected him to. But something must be done about the situation. He is entirely too young to be without a master in a job such as he has. I am going to contact Aristotle, and I shall be there as soon as the next flight is available. Get some sleep, Nicholas. I can sense your exhaustion. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good bye, Lacroix."

Lacroix disconnected the phone and set it on the bar beside him. This was an interesting and unexpected turn of events. A fledgling might do Nicholas some good, if only to get him off that despicable bovine diet. Then again, the man could turn out to be just like Nicholas and encourage him. He'd just have to wait and see.

Stokes sat back down on the couch, visibly trembling now that his conversation with Lacroix was over. He hadn't known that one being could possess so much power. Nor could he imagine having a direct link to it as Nick did, and having to feel it any time the ancient master pleased.

"Why did he want to talk to me?" he finally asked. "I made a fool of myself. I couldn't even talk to him for five minutes. How do you do it – day in and day out?" Stokes shuddered harder.

Nick shrugged. "He wanted to test you. You obviously felt the power he can wield when he wants to. He wanted to know how long you would last."

"I did miserably, didn't I?" the younger man interrupted. "He's going to punish one of us for sure."

"Hey, calm down, will you? He's not going to do anything of the sort. As a matter of fact, he said you were and I quote, 'a most admirable young man,' and, 'he lasted longer than I expected him to.'"

"He actually said that? I didn't screw us over?"

"No you didn't. But he is coming down tomorrow as soon as he is able. I expect that you don't need to be told to be polite to him?" Nick asked jokingly.

"No I do not, my friend. So what was all that Latin stuff about? You sounded pretty upset."

"Lacroix took the news harder than I expected. Funny, but in all the time I've known him and all the times I've angered him, he's never been furious enough to shout at me in Latin. Oh, he's ranted and raved at me in many assorted languages through the centuries, but never in his native tongue." Nick quirked a half-smile. "Your existence managed something I have not in eight hundred years with all my rebellions."

"So, should I be worried or not? I mean, just because I lasted longer than he expected on the phone and he thinks I'm admirable, doesn't really mean that he approves of me. He never actually said so, did he?" Nick shook his head. "See, for all we know, I'm on the endangered species list. I'll be another body for the lab to process and puzzle over."

"Well, technically, there wouldn't be a body. And Lacroix told me he was going to contact Aristotle about you. That has to count for something."

"If you say so." Stokes remained unconvinced and fell into a slight panicked depression that all the pain of his crossing had been for nothing. He was going to die tomorrow and never get to experience any of the benefits of the night life.

"I say so. And lighten up. He's a fiend most of the time, but he looks out for family. God, does he ever do that! Plus, we've been getting along somewhat better lately. I don't know if he would risk damaging that by hurting you. He knows I'd never forgive him, especially since none of this is your fault."

"Sure."

"I mean it, Nick. Now, where are your extra blankets? We still have to sun-proof your house for today."

"Hall closet. It's the door at the end. I don't have very many, though. Definitely not enough for all the windows."

"That's fine. We'll do your bedroom, and the living room, and close all the other rooms off."

Glad for something to do, Stokes retrieved the blankets himself and set to work thoroughly covering the windows in his bedroom. The chore was harder than he had anticipated. The two windows were large and facing east. "I just had to have the corner room, didn't I?" he muttered to himself. But between the two of them, the important windows were covered over and the rest of the rooms were closed off to the day.

Exhausted, Nick Stokes fell into bed before dawn had even begun to lighten the sky. The night had been an ordeal, to say the least. Looking in on the fledgling, Nick was about to comment on something, until he noticed the man was already asleep. Stepping softly out, he quietly lay down on the couch and waited for sleep to claim him as well. He was not as fortunate. Sleep eluded him for several hours and it was fitful when it finally did come. His own conversion plagued his dreams once again. It was the subject of many of his dreams and more often, nightmares – the night of his biggest mistake.

Back in the hotel, an exhausted Natalie was desperately trying to come up with an excuse for Schanke before he asked and she looked like a complete stammering fool. But she had no such luck. Before she'd come up with even a half-decent story, a knock sounded on the door and she hadn't ordered room service. It could only be one of the Schankes. She was right.

"Hey Nat," Schanke said. "I know it's really late for that partner of mine, but I kind of need to talk to him. I thought maybe he was still awake. It's only just dawn, after all." He looked over her shoulder into the room.

"Nick's not here, Schanke."

"What? How could he not be here? Where is he? Nothing happened to him, did it?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Nat stammered. "He went out to meet one of the other CSIs. They're researching some stuff, and Nick said not to worry, he'd probably spend the day at his house." _Way to go, Nat_, she thought. _But then again, the best lie is the truth, right?_

"When did this happen? How come he didn't come to see me about it?"

"Well, Nick thought you should spend your time with your family, this being your vacation and all. You know Nick, though. He hates to not be doing something."

"You are right about that, Nat. I had to practically blackmail him into coming with us, you know. It ended up with me telling him I'd sabotage his blinds while he was asleep." Schanke chuckled to himself. "I didn't think the guy could look any paler, but he turned white as a sheet when I told him that."

Nat forced a smile. "I'll bet he did," she responded quietly.

"What was that, Nat?"

"Nothing, Schanke. But I just finished helping out with the autopsy of your vic, so I'm exhausted."

"Oh, okay then. Sleep well, Nat. My phone's on if you or Nick needs me. Otherwise, Myra and Jenny and I will be taking in the sights."

"Sure thing, Schank. Have a good day." Schanke nodded and walked away. Nat closed the door and leaned against it, heaving a sigh of relief. "Oh, that was too close for comfort, Lambert," she said to herself, and got ready to sleep. She woke in the middle of the morning to the phone ringing. _This is eerily similar to yesterday_, she thought, before picking up the receiver.

"Hello?" she mumbled.

"Doctor Lambert, this is Gil Grissom. I was wondering if you could come in again."

_Again?_ she thought. _Doesn't this man ever sleep?_ But aloud, she said, "What's the problem, Mr. Grissom?"

"The results came back on the saliva Catherine swabbed from the victim's neck finally. It has the same virus in it that Nick's does. Obviously, I knew that it would, but I can't hide it from my team this time. The guys down at the processing lab are having conniption fits over it, talking about getting the CDC out here. I talked them out of it with a promise that you'd come down and tell them what exactly it was."

"How long do you think you can stall them?"

"Not for too much longer now. Maybe until this afternoon. Any chance of either Nick coming in then either?"

"I have no idea. But I'll come in this afternoon. I don't care what you tell them I'm doing, but I'm not coming back in until then. I have to get some sleep."

"Of course. I'm very sorry, Natalie. I should have thought of that. I'll think of something to tell them, and I'll see you this afternoon."

"Good bye Mr. Grissom," Natalie stated and hung up the phone before he could reply. Now she thought she knew how Nick felt when people called him during the day. She promised herself she wouldn't do it anymore unless it was an absolute emergency, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

Finally, the afternoon rolled around and Natalie was somewhat refreshed by her long nap. She was ready to go to the lab and explain the strange "virus".

"Dr. Lambert," Grissom called when she walked into the station. "Would you follow me, please?"

Doing just that, Natalie found herself once again in the hallway outside Grissom's office. But instead of turning in there, he went the opposite way into the room across the hall. Inside were several techs including Greg Sanders, who was the most worked up of all.

"Please tell me you know what this is," he pleaded when she strode into the room, and handed her some test results. "It's the second time in two days I've seen it and I've never seen anything like it before. No one has."

"I discovered it several years ago," Natalie told him evasively, flipping causally through the pages. Once again, the truth seemed to be the best lie. "I first found it in a body that came through my morgue and then a detective working homicide tested for the same thing. Apparently, it makes the carrier very sensitive to sunlight and gives severe food allergies as well. At least, those are the symptoms the detective shows. I can't vouch for the dead guy." Well, that was almost the truth, since the "dead guy" and the detective were one and the same.

"But why haven't I seen it before. If its symptoms are just what you suggest, surely there must be more people with it. It can't be limited to three people." The other techs nodded and agreed with him. "There would be records in medical books about it. I've looked in every one I can think of, plus Googled it just in case it was something so new it wasn't in any books. There is nothing."

"I don't know why it hasn't been discovered until recently. My initial guess was that it was misdiagnosed as separate conditions, like severe photosensitivity and food allergies. You'll have to talk to the detective if you want any more information about symptoms. As his doctor, I've already told you too much."

Greg nodded. "I'll do that. It's Detective Knight, isn't it?" He turned to Grissom. "That other sample you showed me _was_ his wasn't it? Nick was right about it then. I'll have to tell him so."

"He already knows, Greg," Grissom told him quickly. "He asked me about it yesterday after I showed you and I told him."

"Oh, I have another question for you though, Doctor Lambert. How contagious is this virus? I mean, is anyone here in danger of contracting it?"

Natalie winced internally, but kept a straight face as she told her partial lie. "No one here is in any real danger of being infected. The virus is passed through blood transmission and from parents to children only. That's how Detective Knight got it." She purposely left out which one she meant because in the vampire world, it was virtually the same thing.

"Wait, this is an STD?"

"Not exactly. It can only be transferred through blood transmission." She saw Grissom raise his eyebrows, but he kept silent. No one else noticed, thankfully.

"And you're sure of this?"

"As sure as medicine ever gets," she told him vaguely. "But I am sure that Detective Knight will be happy to answer your questions tonight."

"We'll be sure to ask."

Natalie nodded and turned to leave. When she was out in the hallway, Grissom grabbed her elbow. "What about Stokes? I cultured the virus from hair cells, not blood. And how is Detective Knight going to explain this any better than you've already done without giving himself away?"

Natalie smiled her best dangerous smile – the one she'd seen Lacroix use when he talked to her – and spoke softly, slowly removing her elbow from his grasp. "Stokes' accident was unfortunate, but he is rare. And after Nick talks to your techs, none of them will remember any virus at all, Mr. Grissom." Then she moved off, walking slowly through the glass corridors to the lobby and out to her car. Grissom still stood rooted to the spot.

_They wouldn't remember any virus at all?_ he thought.

Night finally came to Las Vegas, and with it the city's denizens of the night awoke, including Nick Stokes and Nick Knight. Stokes sat up and stretched with a yawn, dimly remembering the events of the previous evening. It seemed like a bad dream until the hunger hit him and his fangs extended on their own. He bit back a yelp and sighed. "I guess it wasn't a dream after all," he muttered forcing his teeth to recede. Then he rubbed his face in order to wake himself a little more before he got up. He was surprised to find that no beard had grown while he slept and no gunk filled the corners of his eyes. His stomach rumbled again, reminding him that he had to get up very soon and eat.

Padding through his house on bare feet, Stokes came upon Nick sleeping on the couch. When he touched his shoulder, and Nick's eyes snapped open shaded with gold, he backed away quickly. But Nick soon remembered where he was and calmed himself.

"Good evening," Nick said thickly, trying to wake up.

"Hey man, what was that all about, anyway?"

"You startled me. I usually live alone."

"Oh, sorry, but you looked like you were dead, laying there."

Nick's brain was still fuzzy at best, so he answered with the first thing that came to mind. "I was." At Stokes' startled face, he yawned and elaborated. "Well, not really, I guess. But we're technically dead anyway – no body functions to speak of." Nick yawned again. "You probably looked dead too."

There was no answer to this so Stokes changed the subject. "We need to get something to eat. I'm starving."

Nick blinked and sat up, extending his wrist, and yawned a third time longer than the other two.

The younger man was slightly startled at Nick's nonchalance, but he took the wrist with no hesitation and bit down quickly. Nick reached for Stokes' arm and did the same. In a short while both withdrew, feeling much improved and more fully awake than before.

"So, Nick, what's on the agenda tonight?" Stokes asked.

"Well, Lacroix is coming sometime, you have to make an appearance at work, and we have to find you a local supplier." Nick ticked off each item on his fingers.

"Should we wait for Lacroix somewhere?"

"No need. He'll find us, don't worry."

"Okay. My shift starts in an hour and a half. You want me to drive you to your hotel to get changed?"

"No need. You stay and clean yourself up, and I'll take a more direct route. But don't leave without me, huh? I'll be right back for you."

"Sure," Stokes said, but Nick was gone. After he dressed, Stokes discovered another aspect of being a vampire that he hadn't expected. He started to brush his teeth, but paused when the brush neared his mouth. The minty scent that had only been slightly strong before was now almost unbearable. He thought of how that would taste and almost gagged. He decided that he could skip brushing for once and settled for flossing.

It was a short flight to the hotel, where Nick found Natalie waiting for him. He pulled on a clean shirt as Nat talked.

"Nick, Schanke came by asking for you and some techs found more of the virus in the killer's saliva. They're going wild over it down there. I promised them you'd tell them about your symptoms, if you get my drift," she stated quickly.

"Sure Nat. I'll take care of it. I think Grissom's going to have to keep his knowledge though, for Nick's sake. By the way, try to keep Schanke away from me tonight and yourself as well." He turned to find her staring at him curiously. "I'm expecting Lacroix sometime tonight," he explained.

"Ah," she said. "Will do."

"Thanks," he replied and hugged her. "I've got to get back. Stokes needs to put in an appearance at work, but not without supervision. I'll call you later, though."

"Okay. Bye, Nick." Once again, Nick was gone. "Humph!" Natalie said, but smiled.

Nick Stokes pulled up to the station with Nick Knight riding in the passenger seat. Entering the station, Stokes was immediately accosted by Warrick Brown.

"Hey man, so you're feeling better are you? Thought you said you might not be in for a few days." He turned to Nick and held out his hand, which Nick accepted. "Hi, I'm Warrick Brown. We met briefly in the hallway yesterday."

"Mr. Brown. I'm Nick Knight. My partner and I found your body. I'm pleased to finally meet you up close. Nick told me a lot about you yesterday" _Or, rather, his blood did_, Nick thought.

"It's just Warrick, Detective Knight. Did you find anything out in the Canadian files today?"

"Not yet. We'll work on it more tomorrow. But we're actually looking for Grissom. Have you seen him?"

"Yeah, he's in the lab with Greg. I think he's expecting you. So, Nick, you gonna come with me to the casino tonight? Sara and I never did make it last night. She was looking at possible DNA matches for our killer."

Stokes fidgeted. He and Nick were supposed to meet Lacroix sometime tonight and even though Nick had assured him that Lacroix would find them no matter where they went, he didn't want to risk running all over and have Lacroix be angry with them. Not to mention, Nick had said he was too young a vampire to be alone among mortals, but Nick couldn't keep going everywhere with him without risking suspicion.

"Uh, um, I guess so. If Grissom doesn't give me something else to do, that is." He continued to fidget, shifting his feet and scratching his lower lip until Warrick eyed him critically.

"Sure," he said slowly. "I'll see you later then."

As Warrick walked off Stokes exhaled a long breath. "Whew," he sighed. "That was a narrow avoidance. How do you do it?"

"Practice," Nick quipped. "And lots of it. Now, shall we?" he asked and gestured towards the lab.

Upon their arrival, Greg looked up with relief written across his face, quickly replaced by his usual exuberance. "Hi Nick, Detective Knight. I have something for you guys," he practically bubbled, and before any of the other three men in the room could do anything, he pulled out a large cross and a stake and thrust them towards the vampires. Stokes' eyes nearly popped out of his head at the cross and he took an involuntary step backward as Greg prattled on happily after a short pause. "I gave the same things to Warrick and Catherine on the last case, so I figured I'd do the same for you guys."

Nick finally got over his shock and took the cross from Greg, eliciting a silent and unseen gasp from both Grissom and Stokes. He put it quickly in his pocket, out of sight and tried to ignore the discomfort. Stokes was able to gather enough of his wits to take the stake, although it made him a little uncomfortable, but certainly less than the cross had. Greg looked down to a lab report.

"Thanks Greg," he managed, putting the stake in his pocket as well, and getting a small splinter in the process. The palm of his hand immediately registered the pain, and it was searing, like it was on fire. His eyes and teeth changed briefly and he hissed.

Greg looked up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just got a splinter is all."

"Oh, well, hang on. I've got some tweezers in the drawer. I'll get it out for you." He reached in the drawer and withdrew the tweezers. Stokes held out his hand, not even caring that Greg might see the sudden inflammation or how fast it healed. He just wanted it out, right now.

Greg hesitated with the tweezers and squeezed the wound gently, causing Stokes to wince, but he managed to hold his fangs and eyes in check. "Holy cow, Nick. This is infected already. You sure this just happened?"

"Yeah, just pull it out already," he snapped. Greg looked shocked, but did as he was told, gently sliding the offending piece of wood out of the wound. As soon as it was out, the redness faded and the tiny hole sealed itself. Stokes breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh my God," Greg gasped, and this time it was he who stepped back.

"Greg," Stokes started. It hurt to see the look of disbelief and threatening terror in his friend's eyes. "Greg, it's okay. I know that looked weird, but just trust me. You trust me, right?"

"What… what just happened? How did that do that? Wait, you have the same thing Detective Knight has don't you?" he asked abruptly, with an intuitive leap, and turned to Grissom. "You knew that didn't you? But wait, I've seen you in the sun before. No adverse reaction that I could see. And now that I think of it, what was with the cross?"

Nick's mouth worked but no sound came out and Greg continued on with another huge leap.

"Detective Knight has photosensitivity and severe food allergies," he began, making quotes in the air when he mentioned the food allergies. "Your splinter got infected instantly and healed just as fast when it was out, and you flinched away from a cross just now. If I didn't know better, that sounds like classic vampirism." He was almost hysterical by now. Nick leaned back against the counter and watched to see what Stokes would do. He needed to know how to dodge this question eventually.

Stokes started to sweat, which wasn't good – it was blood. He needed an answer fast. "But, Detective Knight took the cross, Greg. If he was a vampire, how could he have done that?" Stokes asked.

"That's a good question, Nick. I'll ask." He turned to Nick, who caught him in a hypnotic stare.

"You did not encounter an unknown virus. The DNA from the samples you took was too weak to make a match. You never saw Nick flinch from a cross or how fast his splinter healed. There are no such things as vampires," he intoned.

"No… such… things…" Greg repeated.

Nick nodded, satisfied. "Now, Mr. Grissom, could you kindly remove the cross from my pocket before he comes to?"

Grissom hurried over and did just that. When the cross was visible again, both Nicks flinched and Grissom quickly put it in his own pocket. He decided that until this case was over, that was where it would stay.

"Nick, would you like to give me that stake as well?" he asked.

Stokes gladly handed it over, being far more careful this time. Grissom put it in his pocket along with the cross. Yet another thing to carry until the case was over. He had the distinct feeling that he might need both, whether to use on one of the Nicks or on the killer, he didn't know.

Greg was starting to come around. He blinked a moment before he realized just where he was and who was in the room with him. "Oh, sorry," he said. "I must have zoned out there for a moment. We tried to run the DNA from the victim, but it was too weak to make any matches. I hate cases like this. Just weird, you know. I hated that other one too. Fake vampires or not, the whole idea is creepy." He turned to Stokes. "You ever read horror stories as a kid? I did. The vampire ones always scared me the worst. I mean, can you imagine drinking blood?" Greg shuddered and Stokes turned slightly pink – it was as much of a blush as he could manage.

"Yeah," he answered. "Imagine that," and changed the subject. "So, Grissom, what exactly are we doing tonight?"

"I think you should continue to work with Detective Knight and go with Warrick later if you feel up to it. I know you said you didn't feel well yesterday. I don't want you to push yourself too very hard if you're sick."

Nick Knight didn't fail to notice the look Grissom gave him while he was speaking. He obviously wasn't happy about the rearranging of Greg's memories or the loss of one of his CSIs, however temporary. Stokes missed the undercurrents completely.

"Thanks, Grissom. Maybe you're right. I really don't feel myself yet, but I'll definitely try to catch up with Warrick sometime tonight. So, Nick, you want to get to it?"

"Absolutely. Let's go."

"Before you leave, could I see both of you in my office, please?" Grissom asked. The other two followed him to his private lab. Once the door was closed, Grissom finally showed just how upset he was. "Just what did you do to Greg, Detective Knight? And how long will Nick have to be gone? I can't afford to have CSIs out and lab techs forgetting things."

Nick was unfazed. No one ruffled him anymore except Lacroix. "What I did to Greg, Mr. Grissom, was for his own good. And the only reason I haven't done the same to you is for Nick's sake, but you have to swear to keep absolutely silent about him and me and vampires in general. And Nick will be back to work shortly, I imagine. My own sire is coming in tonight to work things out with me. You needn't worry about the killer. He'll be taken care of internally. You'll never find a trace."

"I beg to differ. We _always_ find a trace of something. That's our job. And you still didn't answer what you did to Greg."

"If you must know, I hypnotized him. The only thing he's forgotten is what I told him to forget. There's no damage done. I've been doing the same thing for centuries. I know what I'm doing." He moved closer to Grissom and circled behind him predatorily. "And as for finding a trace, I wouldn't want to. Knowing me won't protect you, it'll only do you harm."

Stokes was beginning to get nervous. He knew Nick could be dangerous when he wanted to be, but all the signs he had seen so far had pointed to the fact that he didn't want to be. To see him threaten his boss, a man he respected above almost everyone else had his loyalties severely divided.

"Nick," he said, "Grissom didn't mean a thing. But we do have a very good record here for finding things no one else does, especially this shift." He turned pleading eyes to Grissom, but said nothing else.

Grissom took the hint. "I'm sorry, both of you. This is just a lot of stress that I don't need. I'm still having trouble processing all of the information."

"I apologize as well, Mr. Grissom," Nick responded. "There's too much stress here on everyone's part. I'm not normally so hostile." He turned towards the door. "We should go. But remember, you really can't tell people – ever."

Lacroix stepped off the plane a few hours after sunset in the hot Nevada desert. He had only his carry-on luggage, so he was able to skip the rigmarole of the baggage claim and go directly to customs. He'd taken a direct flight out of Toronto to Las Vegas at the earliest possible time. Presenting his passport to the customs official, he waited impatiently for it to be cleared and stamped. That done, he ordered a limo. Flight was just too risky around airports, what with radar and all that nonsense. He'd take the limousine only as far as he needed in order to escape detection. Then, it would be time to find his son.

"This will be fine," he told the driver, when they pulled up in front of the very hotel Nick and Schanke had booked. He could feel his son's presence, but it was faint. Paying the driver, he marched inside and up to the counter.

"Yes, sir, may I help you?" the desk clerk asked politely.

"Indeed, you may. I am meeting someone here, a Nicholas Knight. Has he checked in?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't give out that information," the clerk informed him and began to turn away.

"Ah, but you can tell me," Lacroix told the man. "I am the owner of this fine hotel. Now, which room belongs to Nicholas Knight?"

"Room 521, sir. Anything else I can do for you?"

"I would like a room as well. Put it under the name Lacroix. I do not want people to know that the owner is here."

"Yes, sir." The clerk handed over a key, also a room on the fifth floor, and shook his head to clear the daze. Lacroix was already gone.

In the elevator, Lacroix punched the button for the fifth floor and waited as the car ascended smoothly to its destination. Thankfully, it didn't stop at any other floors on the way. He hadn't fed for the whole flight to Las Vegas and he was terribly hungry. He doubted very much that he would lose control of himself, but there was never a reason to take the chance. At the appointed floor, the elevator chimed and the doors opened. He quickly found room 521 and knocked.

Natalie heard the knocking on the hotel room door. Finally, her room service had arrived. She pulled the door open, however, to reveal the person she probably least wanted to see. Lacroix stood just outside the room, looking immaculate in his usual black ensemble. Her face fell noticeably.

Lacroix smirked at her. "Not happy to see me, Doctor?"

"Not particularly, Lacroix. I was expecting room service. You're a poor substitute for double fudge and mint chip chocolate ice cream. What do you want?"

Lacroix laughed outright at her odd brand of humor. He really did like the woman. In other circumstances, he would have had no problem with her at all, but her annoying tendency to coddle Nicholas irritated him to no end. He gathered himself again and explained his presence.

"I only wish to speak with Nicholas, Doctor Lambert. He called me yesterday evening, with the news that he has a new 'accidental' fledgling. Do you know where they are?"

"Nick called you?" she asked suspiciously. He hadn't told her that – only that he was expecting Lacroix some time tonight.

"Indeed he did. Despite what you think of me, Doctor, I am Nicholas' father and he does come to me if he has a problem."

Natalie decided that holding her tongue and not saying that Lacroix had created all of Nick's problems 800 years ago was the best way to survive the night. Instead, she said, "He spent the night at that CSI's house, but he came by a little while ago to change his clothes. He said he'd be at the police station for a little while. Other than that, I don't know."

"Thank you Doctor." Lacroix smirked again. "Enjoy your ice cream."

Nat stared at him for a moment and he finally turned and walked away. She shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, exhaling sharply.

In the hallway, Lacroix could still hear every movement the good doctor made; he could still hear her heart if he wanted to. He knew she'd been upset to see him there. It was quite amusing. He found his own room and deposited his travel bag on the bed before taking the elevator to the top floor of the hotel. From there, he found the stairwell to the roof. The door was locked, but he twisted the handle until it gave, and began his search for Nicholas. Doctor Lambert had told him that his son would probably be at the police station for a while, so that was as good a place as any to start.

He found the building quickly, using both traffic cues and the link to his son. He landed in the far corner of the rear parking lot and made his way around the front of the building. He walked boldly up to the reception desk and cleared his throat. A young woman looked up at him, slightly startled. She hadn't heard anyone approaching.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I believe you can, officer. I am looking for a Gil Grissom. Is he in, by any chance?"

"May I ask what this is concerning?"

"A private matter, my dear. Is he in?"

The officer was a little suspicious, but the pale stranger didn't seem to be too threatening. "Yes, sir, he is. I'll page him. Who should I tell him is asking for him?"

"There is no need. If you would kindly point me in the way of his office, I would be most grateful." Lacroix laced his words slightly with a little hypnotism, just to reinforce the request.

"Certainly, sir. It's down this hallway. Take your second right and then the third door on the left."

"Thank you." Lacroix made his way to the office, drawing curious stares from the officers. Apparently, they were more accustomed to seeing men like himself in the interrogation rooms than wandering freely in the hallways. He could feel the presence of his son around, but he was no longer in the building. It didn't matter. He wanted to meet this Gil Grissom. At the appointed door, he stopped and merely waited outside, silently.

In his office, Grissom had started to work on a plausible explanation for the murder and a way to find the murderer himself. He was getting nowhere. Nick Stokes and Detective Knight had left already, easing his worries and strengthening them at the same time. He hadn't gotten many details, but he didn't want to dwell on the thoughts of Stokes having to kill for food. After a while he had the sensation of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms tingled and his chest tightened. He looked up to see a stranger was indeed standing in his doorway watching him. He was tall and pale and dressed all in black. The same feelings he'd had when he first met Detective Knight, the ones he had tried to ignore, rushed over him. He finally realized just what they meant and had to repress a shudder.

"May I help you?" he asked calmly, trying not to jump to conclusions.

Lacroix heard the man's heart rate speed up fractionally and smiled a decidedly unpleasant smile. "I am looking for my son. Perhaps you know him."

"I might. What is your son's name?"

"Nicholas Knight."

Grissom's eyes widened. That confirmed his theory about his odd feelings. This being was Nick's master vampire. He was the Roman general. Grissom decided to play it safe. He didn't know how much the man in front of him knew, so he'd give just the bare facts. Nick had said, after all, that he wasn't to talk about vampires to anyone. "Yes, I know him. He's helping us with a case at the moment."

Lacroix's glare hardened. "Indeed. You are aware of the _nature_ of the case, sir?"

"The nature of the case? It was a homicide, if that's what you mean, by exsanguination."

Lacroix stepped into the lab, his eyes flashing briefly. "I know you know about us, Mr. Grissom. My son has told me as much. So do not waste my time pretending you do not, and by all means, do not lie to me. I can tell."

Grissom gulped visibly and Lacroix bestowed one of his nastier smiles on him. "Alright, then. The truth. I know what you and Nick are and my CSI as well. But it was my own fault. I tested one of Detective Knight's hairs without his permission. It was only after my CSI, Nick Stokes infected himself that Detective Knight came right out and told me."

"Very good. Nicholas had told me as much. I appreciate your truthfulness. I would have hated to have to kill you. Nicholas really would not have liked it, you know. Do you know where he has gone?"

"I don't. Really."

"No matter. I will find him."

"How were you planning on that? He told me before he left that he purposely left his phone in his hotel room."

"Mr. Grissom, I shall always be able to find my son."

Grissom didn't like the implications of that statement. "Oh," was all he said, and after a pause, "May I ask what your name is?"

"Lucien Lacroix." And with that, he was gone.

Lucien Lacroix? The nightclub owner from Knight's emergency contacts? Odd. He'd have to check him out too.

Outside, on the roof of the police station, Lacroix closed his eyes and cautiously concentrated on the bond he shared with his son. He wasn't normally so careful about it, but if Nicholas was on a case involving a vampire any lapse in concentration on his part in a fight could be potentially lethal. Gathering a general direction, Lacroix flew towards it, refining his search as he drew nearer. Finally, he saw his son. He and the fledgling were headed into a bar. He smiled at the similarity of it to the Raven. He also sensed a heavy presence of many vampires inside. It must indeed this city's double of his establishment. Lacroix masked his own presence and made his way inside.

Inside the bar, both Nicks made their way to the counter. The bartender recognized Stokes from when he'd been in on the previous case.

"Hello again," he smirked. "What can I get for you this time? More information? Or something more substantial? Perhaps a house special?"

Nick stepped in for both of them. "Nothing too fancy, please. House special for me and uncut for him." He jabbed his thumb in Stokes' direction.

Annoyed that his sport had been interrupted, the bartender scowled. "You let your master do all your fighting?"

Stokes was irritated now. He could take care of himself, and he was about to say so when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"No, I do all of the fighting for both when it becomes necessary. I suggest," Lacroix growled, finally allowing his power to break through his mental barriers, "that you get the gentlemen their drinks. And add another house special to the order." He turned to Nick. "Good evening Nicholas. You would not object if I joined you, of course?"

Lacroix also had a hand on his own son's shoulder, which to his surprise, Nick didn't immediately shake off. "Good evening, Lacroix. Of course we don't mind if you join us."

Lacroix chose a seat on the other side of Nick Stokes, so that the fledgling was sandwiched between the two elder vampires. "And you must be the youngest member of the family, Nicholas Stokes."

Stokes nodded nervously. Nick mentally nudged him. Speak up, he thought.

"Yes, sir, I'm Nick Stokes."

"Hmmm… You want to be careful who you challenge, young one. That bartender is at least two centuries old. No match for Nicholas or myself, but more than enough for you."

"I didn't challenge anyone, sir. He recognized me from a case and started in on me."

"Your anger at his words was clearly felt, child. That is a challenge. You must learn to control what you put out. And despite what you think, you are not your own and you can not take care of yourself any longer." He turned to look at Stokes. "Not for a very long time, any way."

"You, you heard me think that?"

Lacroix gave him a very small smile. "Hardly. I merely have practice in that area, thanks mostly to Nicholas. Who I am sure told you quite the opposite."

"Lacroix…" Nick sighed. "You know that we don't agree on _filial_ duties. We never have. I don't want to argue about it."

"That, Nicholas, is rather beside the point. The boy cannot be without his master for several decades, if only because he needs protection, and you have a life."

The drinks came and the men moved to a more secluded table to continue their discussion.

"What do you suggest, Lacroix? Nick has a life here, too."

"Mortals move all the time, do they not? I propose he comes to Toronto after this case is done."

"Nick, what do you think of this?"

Stokes swallowed quickly. "I don't know what to think. I know I'm not strong enough to be alone for a while, but I really don't want to move either."

"Well," Lacroix mused, "let us look at the facts. What, young Nicholas do you have to hold you here besides work? Family? No. You told me yourself your family is in Texas. Friends? As I said before, mortals move all the time and keep in contact with friends. I do believe there is no real reason you could not move to Toronto."

"How would I explain that though? I mean, two Toronto homicide detectives find a body in an alley and I move up there just after the case is done? That looks suspicious."

"Not to worry. Nicholas and I are quite skilled in muddling mortal minds." Lacroix allowed himself another small smile at his alliteration. "No one will have any suspicions at all. And Nicholas, that includes Mr. Grissom. I was not entirely happy that he knew of us, but I recognize the necessity for now."

"None of this makes any difference in the fact that he doesn't want to move, Lacroix," Nick stated, ignoring the remark about Grissom.

"Nicholas!" Lacroix said sharply. "It is settled. The boy will move to Toronto. There is no other alternative. He can not be without you, and he has no real ties here."

Stokes was close to trembling again as he sensed the ancient master's ire. "Nick, it will be fine. He's right. I'm not strong enough to protect myself alone, and my control is negligible. The team here will just have to accept it."

"Do listen to him, Nicholas. You obviously are not going to listen to me."

"Fine, both of you. I just hate having to disrupt your life more than it already has been."

"Nick, come on. What's a little move compared to finding out you're going to live forever? I'll have to get used to moving on some time. Why not when my life's already looking like a mess? I actually think the change will be easier if it comes sooner. Gives me a chance to settle both. Do you know what I mean?"

"I suppose so. Guess that means finding you a local supplier is a moot point then. Shall we go? We still have to solve this case after all."

"That we do. Let's get moving."

On the sidewalk, Lacroix leaned in towards Stokes, who flinched from the contact. Lacroix chuckled sardonically. "I won't bite you young Nicholas – not unless you ask. But you must tell me your secret for talking him into things. I can never do it."

Nick rolled his eyes at his master and heaved a sigh, but Stokes smiled. Maybe Lacroix wasn't so bad after all. But then again, he'd talked with the man for barely half an hour. He'd reserve his judgment a few centuries.

"Now, Nicholas, I am staying in the same hotel you are booked at. The clerk was even nice enough to give me a room on the same floor, thanks to the timely arrival of the owner."

"You didn't hypnotize him to get the information did you? Of course you did. What am I saying?" Nick interrupted.

"If you will allow me to continue, Nicholas, I was going to say that perhaps we should do something together before we leave. How does a hunt sound, boy?" he asked, turning to Stokes and leading them all into an alley, well aware of the fiery glare he was receiving from Nick.

"Ah, a hunt, sir?" Stokes stammered. "I, uh, um, what I mean is, that I…"

"Lacroix, please," Nick finally interceded. "You know you make fledglings nervous just by being around. Why do you insist on torturing them?"

"It is quite amusing, Nicholas. And I was not torturing your fledgling. I was offering an invitation to hunt. He needs to hunt at least once in his life."

"Lacroix! He is a day old! You were torturing him. Admit it."

"Very well, Nicholas. I shall leave your young charge be for a few decades. Perhaps by then you will even join us. I know neither of you will consent to hunt with me and frown on my doing so as well. Both of you being police officers and all that nonsense. But I was serious about doing something together. After all, he may not be around for very long. You do so have trouble keeping fledglings Nicholas, especially ones that meet with my approval. And I do approve of young Nicholas here. He will make a fine addition to the family once he… grows up."

"What does that mean?" Stokes asked.

"Most of my fledglings went off the deep end right after their conversion. They were a danger to the Community as well as the mortals, Lacroix. You know that. They had to be brought down for everyone's sake. And you are still torturing my fledgling and not even fighting fair, this time. Really, Lacroix, I thought such things were beneath you."

Lacroix pushed Nick against the wall and hissed, displaying his fangs. "You will not speak to me in such a manner, boy!" he growled. To his credit, Stokes did not run out of the alley, but he did back away considerably. He felt awful though for even doing that while his master was threatened, so he cautiously made his way back to the pair and put his hand on Lacroix' arm.

"Please, sir, don't hurt him. He's only looking out for me." Stokes was surprised at how calm his voice sounded although he knew he must be putting out waves of fear for the elder to read.

Lacroix snapped around to face him, releasing Nick in the process. Stokes' new instincts kicked in and he assumed a submissive air and looked at the ground. Lacroix did not fail to notice, and even though he knew the boy's posture was one of pure instinct in the face of a much greater power, he was pleased. He couldn't let either of the younger vampires know that, of course, so he turned back to Nick, who was still against the wall, also in a submissive position, despite having been released. Nicholas would never have done that previously. He would have fought tooth and nail, literally, to get free, but he also had new instincts to protect his fledgling, which meant remaining passive. Now he was sure the fledgling was good news all around. Inwardly, he cheered, but on the surface, he maintained his neutral expression and quickly brought his hand up within an inch of Nicholas' face. His son closed his eyes and flinched, but nothing more.

Nick knew he was in serious trouble the instant the words had left his mouth. Lacroix shoved him against the wall and he couldn't help but be reminded of that time in Paris just before he'd run off to find Don Constantine for the first time. He started to resist, when he realized that if he did, Stokes could get hurt. His undead heart leapt in his chest when the boy advanced again after his hasty retreat from Lacroix' anger. The fear radiating from him was palpable, but the young man's voice remained calm as he asked Lacroix to spare his creator. When Lacroix did not immediately fly off the handle at the intrusion, Nick was very surprised. Then he saw the hand moving toward him faster than a mortal eye could follow. He wouldn't be so lucky as his fledgling, then. He closed his eyes and flinched away from the expected blow, but it never came. Cautiously, he peered out from submissively lowered eyelids to look at his master.

When Nicholas had opened his eyes once more, Lacroix patted his son twice on the cheek, a gesture that implied both a threat and affection. He left his hand on Nicholas' cheek for a moment and then slid it around until he had him by the back of the neck, a centuries old gesture that went back to Nicholas' conversion, which had always meant acceptance and understanding. It had been a long time since that gesture had been used.

Nick's eyes grew round as saucers and his mouth fell open. He was not going to be punished for his words! He would have danced had Lacroix not been standing right in front of him. But he remained exactly as he was, quickly closing his mouth and once again looking at the ground between him and his master.

"Thank you, Master," he murmured.

Lacroix nodded once in acceptance of Nick's words. He backed away slightly and looked at his son and new "grandson" closely. "Go and play your mortal games," he finally said. "I will find you both later. Try to stay out of too much trouble." Then he checked to see that no one was watching and lifted into the sky.

Both Nicks breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is he always like that?" Stokes asked.

"Like what?"

"Your best friend one minute and your worst nightmare the next."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how he operates. I don't even know if it's conscious to him or not. I've given up trying to figure him out though," Nick told him with a sigh.

"I would too. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'll start."

"A wise idea. Shall we go and do our jobs then?"

"That would be good, wouldn't it? Grissom will flip if he finds out we did nothing all night again."

"Then let us go do something constructive. Where did Warrick say he was going?"

"The Grand, I guess. That's where they figure the vic came from. Grissom told us that's where you were when you heard the scream. They did some tests that day that confirmed that's where a person could have heard the scream from."

"Oh, no."

"What? What's the matter man?"

"I told Grissom the Grand because I knew that's where a _mortal_ could have heard the scream from. I know you science types. You test every single point of a statement, no matter who gives it."

Stokes put his hand to his forehead. "You lied to Grissom in your statement? Do you have any idea how devastating that could be to the case?"

"Calm down. There won't be any case against this guy. You know that."

"No case? How can there be no case? There was a murder, in case you forgot and the guy who did it needs to face justice…" Stokes trailed off awkwardly, just realizing what Nick meant. There would be no case because technically, no murderer would ever be found. He would be dealt with internally, probably by Lacroix or Nick himself if the local elder wouldn't handle it. "Err, right," he said sheepishly.

Nick smiled at him. "Don't worry about it. I know exactly how you feel, and I think he should be brought to justice too, but we can't risk revealing ourselves to mortals."

"So what do we do now?" Stokes asked.

"Well, now we just canvass all the casinos in the area. We don't know where the man came from since he had no chips in his pockets. "

"Sounds like a plan."

"Good. Let's go back to your car and get started then."

The pair drove down the strip until they reached the crime scene, still taped off with yellow tape and guarded by an officer. They checked in with him and left Stokes' car close by. In each casino they entered they flashed the dead man's picture to the security guards and in each one they were disappointed until they came to the Bellagio. They were in luck. The head security guard remembered the man from the black jack tables.

"Yeah I know him," the man said. "He's in here every so often, the little cheat. But we can never actually catch him in the act. Any time he gets scared, which is more often than most con guys, by the way, he just lights out and leaves his pot."

"And when was the last time he was in here, sir?" Stokes asked.

"Near as I remember it was just a couple of days ago. He did his drop it and run thing and one of the security guys followed him this time. What's he done anyway; finally get caught?" The man guffawed.

"No sir, Bryan Desmond was found murdered two nights ago." The security guard quickly stopped laughing. "May we speak to the security guard who followed him?" Stokes continued professionally.

"Uh, he's not here tonight. He hasn't been in since then, come to think of it. You guys don't think he killed the guy, do you? I mean, we try our best to keep the cheaters out, but that doesn't mean we want to kill them. His only orders were to follow the guy, not to kill him. You gotta believe that!"

The guard was obviously nervous about his involvement and the reputation of the casino so Stokes tried to reassure him. "No one is saying that the order to kill him was given at any time. But we know sometimes things get carried away, so if you could give us the address of the guard, we would appreciate it. We'll do all we can to be discreet."

"Sure," the man finally agreed, after a long pause. Nick was relieved. He hadn't wanted to hypnotize the man to get the information he needed and was glad that it turned out he didn't have to. "Vincent DiMartino lives at 1056 McLeod Drive," he said, after typing the man's name into the computer. "He's a good guy – never any trouble. I'm sure whatever happened was a mistake if it was him at all."

"Thank you, sir," Stokes said, still professional and not commenting on the man's assessment of his employee's personality.

Finally back in the car, Nick and Stokes were able to talk freely. "What should we expect, Nick?" Stokes asked.

Nick sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I really have no idea. I guess it depends on how old this guy is. If he's relatively young I won't have any problems with him, but if he's older than me – always a possibility, though not very likely – we'll need help. In either case, we need to see the Las Vegas elder first."

"What happens after we contact him?"

"Well, the elder will give a judgment and the Enforcers will have to be called because he left a drained body and didn't obscure the bite marks. If the elder proves to be uncooperative, we'll just have to take care of him ourselves. And we have to tell Grissom so he can help us think of a plausible 'no suspect' theory."

Stokes didn't like the finality of "take care of him" and remained silent for the rest of the ride to the police station.

In the mean time, after Lacroix had left so abruptly, Grissom had been on the computer and on the phone checking into the being who posed as a night club owner and late-night DJ. His first call was to Toronto's 96th precinct where he was connected with Captain Reese.

"Captain, there's a Las Vegas forensics investigator on line four for you," Norma said, poking her head into her superior's office.

"Thank you Norma," Reese replied and fielded the phone call. "This is Captain Reese, 96th precinct, Toronto. May I ask who is calling?"

"Good evening Captain," Grissom replied. "My name is Gil Grissom and I work for the Las Vegas crime lab. We've had a strange case here, minimally involving two of your detectives, as you know. I was wondering if you could be of assistance."

"Well, I can certainly try. What did you have in mind, Mr. Grissom?"

"Ah, I've just met another Toronto resident and I need some information on him. A Mr. Lucien Lacroix. He's a night club owner and DJ?"

"Yes, I know who he is. We had a strange case involving him too. What is it that you think he's done, Mr. Grissom? I would be happy to help you put that man behind bars. He's just a bit to oily for me."

Grissom was surprised at the amount of animosity in the captain's voice. "Oh, well, so far it seems that he's barely connected to the case. He is listed as an emergency contact for Detective Knight and he is here in Las Vegas as well. It just struck me as an odd coincidence. The only information I need is whether or not he has a police record."

"He most certainly does, although he was never charged with anything. I'll e-mail you the report right away, and if you want a good look into the man's psyche, you might try the website that CERK maintains about him. It has partial transcripts of some of his broadcasts, and let me tell you, they are not bedtime stories."

"Thank you, Captain. I'll certainly give that a look. My e-mail is .com. I'll be looking for that file."

"No problem, Mr. Grissom. No problem at all. Don't hesitate to call if you need any more information."

"I'll remember that. Thank you again, Captain. You have a nice evening."

"You too, Mr. Grissom. Good-bye."

Both men hung up and Grissom logged onto the internet to look up the Nightcrawler's website. He located the link that brought him to the transcripts and began to read through them.

"_I am listening also. I hear your thoughts. You feel you're alone, but you're not. I know your pain, your frustration, your hunger for justice. I am the Nightcrawler. I feel everything. Come to me, now. I can be your strength where you have none. I can be your wisdom, your truth. And all you need to share with me is your very soul."_

_ "Do you trust me? I want you to. I'm reaching out to you, tonight. Do you trust anyone? Come and confide in me. Confess all. Unburden your conscience. Be rid of your sins. Call me now. And entrust me with your secret selves. I have returned for your sake. Tell me what you won't tell your best friend, your lover, your children, or your father. Let me be your friend. Share all of yourselves because I'm the Nightcrawler, and I love you all."_

_ "However worthless you feel, my friend, however bleak it all seems, in the end, you can come to me. You'll always have something that I value. Part of you that I will always welcome. Trust me, because I am the Nightcrawler, and I want all of you to love me."_

_ "Love. A blip on the monitor of involuntary human response – a hiccup of emotion when compared with envy, hatred, lust. And just who was this "Saint" Valentine? A bishop, Roman, third century, who got his head sliced off – ouch – for marrying lovers against his emperor's decree. You see, Claudius the Second believed men made better warriors unmarried. Power comes with the absence of love. Love, drains us of our strength. We never learn, do we? And you say that love conquers all. Well, not for you Saint Valentine, not for me, not for any of the heart broken."_

_ "Life will always find a way to cheat death. Life is the enemy we cannot defeat. Only cling to like parasites on the living flesh of the universe, hoping that we're not noticed and brushed away with a flick of the hand."_

_ "Tonight, your Nightcrawler is ruminating on friendship. I say a friend for life is a leech, someone who bleeds you. There is no real or lasting friendship and no one is to be trusted. Who will challenge me on this? Who does not believe that all friendships must sour – slowly, imperceptibly – cumina de la closh? And that in the end, it's not the big lie that turns us into mortal enemies, but the little white lies that drive the wedges between us, poison our loyalty and blight our trust? You don't agree? Let's discuss it then, **friends**."_

_ "Tonight, we mourn the loss of a dear friend. One moment so full of life, the next, what was lies shattered and broken. Irretrievable. Beyond reach, beyond hope. And we ask ourselves, if there is a god, how can this happen? Better to ask, if there is a god, must it be sane?"_

_ "My word, gentle listener, what have I said to upset you so? That there is madness in the world, fueled by hatred, by guilt? That we all share in the collective sins of our past, and that none can be forgiven? Is this not so? Guilt is for the weak. To harbor it is to deny yourself freedom, to be a captive, a slave. The strong know this. They do what must be done and think nothing of the consequences, and so they survive – free. Agree or disagree? Discuss."_

Grissom was morbidly fascinated with the thoughts of the being he had just met. So much so that he didn't notice when he had other visitors hovering around his office door.

Nick and Stokes got to Grissom's office to tell him the news about their suspect, only to find him engrossed in his computer screen. He was so involved that he didn't even notice them hovering in his doorway.

"Ahem," Nick finally said.

Grissom's head snapped up at once. "Oh, hello Nick, Detective Knight. I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously," Stokes said, with a grin. "What were you looking at?"

"Some transcripts of Mr. Lacroix' radio show. He paid me a visit this evening. Some of it is pretty out there."

Nick rolled his eyes. "I know he did. He found us earlier. And by the way, most of that is usually directed at me and whatever case I'm investigating or whatever personal problems I'm having. I don't know why he feels the rest of Toronto should be privy to it, but there it is. I didn't realize the station put it on a website too."

"Well, oh," Grissom said, feeling like he'd just inadvertently read someone's diary and told them about it. "What did he have to say? And how did he find you? I thought you left your phone at the hotel."

It was Stokes' turn to look a little uncomfortable. "We're all kind of connected," he muttered. "And Lacroix wants me to move to Toronto after the case is done. It's for my own good, really," he finished quickly when he saw Grissom getting upset.

"Why do you have to move?" Grissom asked, almost calmly.

"It's for my safety," Stokes explained to his confused boss. "We're all kind of connected and if I'm close, Nick and Lacroix can look out for me better."

"You're all kind of connected?" he repeated. "You don't honestly expect me to believe that there is some kind of telepathy at work here, do you?"

"Well, there is, Grissom. It's weird, yes, but it's there. I really do have other people in my head sometimes. Nick, mostly, him being my, uh, well, you know." Stokes was unwilling to say master in the presence of Grissom. It was faintly embarrassing and he didn't know how Grissom might react.

"Can you give me a demonstration, so that I know this isn't all an excuse?" he asked.

"Sure. Nick, would you close and cover your eyes, please?" Nick smiled and did as he asked. "Now, Grissom point to anything in the room."

Grissom pointed to a series of specimen dishes containing the growth stages of fly larva. Stokes sent the image to Nick, who promptly stated the answer. Grissom did this a number of times with different objects. Nick got every one.

"All right, I'm convinced," Grissom finally said. Nick took his hands away from his eyes. "So, what did you come here to tell me in the first place?"

Nick spoke up. "We found the person who we think is the killer. We drove past his house and we could sense him, so it's definitely a vampire."

"I'll call Brass," Grissom interrupted, reaching for the phone.

"No," Nick said. Grissom paused. "There can be no record of him. The Elder of the Las Vegas Community will take care of him for being sloppy. And if he does not, Lacroix, Nick and I will."

"You're going to kill him? With no trial, no investigation, no nothing?"

"That's just how it has to be," Nick told him calmly.

"Nick, you condone this?" Grissom asked him.

Stokes looked at the floor. Nick was staring at him now, too. He could hear him in his mind saying that this was the way things had to be. "Yes, I do," he whispered.

Grissom stared at him in shock for a moment then looked away as he spoke. "I don't believe you just said that, Nick. I don't know you at all any more. You're not the same man. The Nick Stokes I knew would never just accept something like that."

Stokes was getting angry now and his eyes faded into gold as his fangs dropped. "No, I'm not the same," he growled gutturally. This forced Grissom to look at him and gasp, but Stokes continued. "I'm not even human any more, but neither is the killer." He took the handcuffs dangling from his belt and showed them to his boss, then he snapped the chain in half and bent the bracelets with his thumbs, ignoring Grissom's flinch. "I'm a day and a half old and I can do that, Grissom. Our killer is guaranteed to be older. What do you think he would do to a bunch of mortal policemen? He sure as hell wouldn't stop at breaking the cuffs, if things even got that far. He'd rip them to pieces and move to another city. You'd never find him again, just his victims. So, yes, he is going to be killed and this is regardless of whether I condone it or not." Nick's fangs receded but his eyes remained gold. All anger gone, his expression changed to one of deep sadness, bordering tears. "But I expected some measure of understanding from you, Grissom. You are one of my best friends, a man I look up to…" Stokes trailed off and his eyes finally gained their natural hue. The only things betraying his new existence were the tiny, red, unshed tears of hurt in the corners of his eyes, which he dashed away quickly with the back of his hand. Nick put an arm around his fledgling briefly to reassure him. Roiling emotions were a part of being young and there was nothing to be done about it but wait until it blew over.

Grissom looked stricken. He had genuinely hurt his friend with his thoughtless words. "I… I'm sorry Nick. I knew in my head that this must be a huge change for you, but I don't think what happened had truly sunk in until now. I was out of line when I said all that. I should have known the whole deal would proceed with or without your consent. I'm just frustrated, is all."

Stokes swallowed. "I understand, and I figured that was the case. I honestly don't know what came over me. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"No, don't apologize. If justice for this guy means a stake, then there's nothing I can do about it. Go home and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Both Nick Knight and Nick Stokes nodded and headed for Stokes' car. This time Nick drove, Stokes was still too distracted. When he looked up after a while he noticed they were not headed toward his house.

"Um, Nick? Where are we going?" he asked.

"Back to my hotel. I want you to meet Natalie and that's where Lacroix is staying too."

Stokes' mood turned suddenly playful. "So, Nick," he asked casually, "isn't it a little weird for a guy who's technically dead to date the county coroner?"

"Who says we're dating?" Nick countered, with a smile of his own.

"You do, old man. She was in your blood more than anything else," Stokes answered.

"We're just…"

"…good friends," Stokes interrupted and finished for him. "Yeah, I saw that a lot too. Come on, you know you can tell me."

"Why, you little…" Nick exclaimed jokingly. Stokes grinned again. Despite the joking tone, he could feel Nick's mental blush.

"Don't worry, I won't tell on you," Stokes said.

When they finally arrived at the hotel, it was only a couple of hours until dawn. Nick led the way to room 521, where he stopped and listened for a moment. He could hear Nat moving around and the T.V. was on. She was eating something as well. Satisfied that she was decent, Nick put his card key in the slot and opened the door. Nat whirled around at the noise, a large crucifix in her hand. Stokes flinched badly and looked away from it. Nick just looked at her.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed and hastily put the cross in her bag underneath some clothes.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Mind telling us what that was all about?" he asked.

"Lacroix was here earlier," she said. "I thought better safe than sorry."

"Oh. Well, if you're sure you're not going to stake us where we stand, I'd like to introduce someone to you," Nick replied in a serious tone, but Nat knew he was joking.

"I'll try to restrain myself," she said through a smile.

"Good. Natalie Lambert, this is Nick Stokes. Nick, Natalie."

"Hello," Nat said, holding out her hand. "Sorry about before. But if you've met Lacroix, you know why I took precautions."

"Hi," Stokes replied, taking her hand. "No harm done. You just startled me is all, but I do concede your point. If I could carry a cross to ward off Lacroix, I might do it too."

"Hear, hear," Nick added.

"Well, that's really not very nice of you at all, Nicholas."

Nat was so badly startled at the intrusion that she screamed and dove for her bag to retrieve the cross. Lacroix was standing in the doorway, with his characteristic shark-like smile on his face. Both men were startled too. They hadn't felt a thing as he approached. Stokes' eyes widened and his jaw fell open, but Nick merely grinned back at him.

"Well, I would," Nick told him, but through the bond between them Lacroix could feel nothing but humor.

"Indeed," he answered, deciding not to take offense. "Doctor Lambert, you may put the cross away; I mean you no harm. You are really frightening no one but Mr. Stokes and making a fool of yourself while you are at it, I might add."

Natalie dropped the cross in her pocket. "Figures," she muttered darkly. "So, why are you here?"

Lacroix narrowed his eyes at her before speaking. "Do I need a reason to see my son? This is his room as well, is it not?"

"I guess not and yes it is," Natalie replied vaguely. "I guess I'll just go and get some more ice, then." All three vampires watched her leave – she didn't take the ice bucket. Lacroix turned back to his son.

"You found the culprit of this sloppy kill?" he inquired.

"Yes, we think we did. We were going to see the Las Vegas Elder tomorrow night. I was actually going to come see you later to ask if you would come along."

Lacroix was surprised at the request but he didn't show it. "Of course, Nicholas. I'll be there."

"You don't happen to know _who_ it is, do you?" Nick continued.

"The last I heard, it was Marcus LeMorte," Lacroix said with a small smile. Marcus and Nicholas didn't get on at all well.

Nick groaned. Anyone but that pompous, arrogant, egotistical, son-of-a…

"Who's Marcus LeMorte?" Stokes asked, picking up on Nick's irritation.

"Only the most stuck-up, self-centered, conniving…" Nick started.

"Now, now, Nicholas," Lacroix interrupted, sounding faintly amused at his progeny's irritation. "_Elder_ Marcus deserves your respect," he further teased.

Nick growled at his memory of the man. "What he deserves is a swift kick in the rear end, and that's far too good for him!"

Lacroix turned to Stokes to explain and left Nicholas to rant to himself. "Marcus and Nicholas had a run-in several centuries ago. Nicholas has never appreciated the fact that he has one master and so, when Marcus demanded his respect one night on the grounds that as an older vampire and more experienced, _he_ was a master, Nicholas none too politely told him of his feelings on the matter. Marcus was highly displeased, as you can well imagine and boxed Nicholas's ears before he could react. Nicholas was so stunned, not to mention deafened by the action, that he merely stood there for several moments before attacking him. Unfortunately, we _were_ in Marcus' territory at the time and his fledglings prevented Nicholas from doing him any harm."

"How much older is this guy?" Stokes asked. Nick had told him that any older vampire was a potential threat, so he was confused as to why Nick would attack one.

"Oh, about fifty or so years," Lacroix replied nonchalantly.

"That's it?" Stokes exclaimed. "No wonder you were so angry, Nick."

"Yes, well, be that as it may," Lacroix continued, "he is older and it was his territory. Technically, he is Nicholas' superior."

Nick snarled at the comment. "In a pig's eye, he is!" Nick groaned. "I'm never going to convince Marcus to get rid of our perp. Maybe you should go first and I'll follow you," he suggested.

Lacroix raised an eyebrow. "Nicholas, does this mean you are accepting the fact that you need a master in this situation?"

Nick groaned again and rolled his eyes. "Yes, it does," he ground out between clenched teeth. "Will you help?"

Lacroix was very pleased. "Only if you ask me formally," he responded coolly.

"What?" Nick gasped.

"You heard me Nicholas. I will not repeat myself."

"But…" he started, then changed his mind. He tried to tune Stokes out. This would be embarrassing. "Fine," he sighed and bowed his head. "Master, I am in need of your assistance. It concerns another elder. Would you be willing to intercede on my behalf?"

"I will intercede, Nicholas." He held out his hand, palm down, displaying his ring. Nick knew what was next, but he balked. "Finish it, Nicholas," Lacroix said in a low, dangerous voice.

Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Master," he murmured. Then he brought Lacroix' hand to his mouth and kissed the ancient's ring. He could sense Lacroix' smug smile through their bond without even having to look at him. "Satisfied?" he growled as he straightened.

"For now." Without another word, Lacroix left – just as silently as he had appeared.

Stokes could practically see the steam coming from Nick's ears. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine," Nick ground out between clenched teeth. "I just thought that maybe we were building some respect between us. Ugh! I hate him sometimes!"

"What's the big deal?" Stokes responded. "You asked for his help and he gave it. Didn't he?"

"Oh, he gave it all right. But he hasn't made me perform that ritual in well over 300 years. It is something a very young fledgling would do way back when. Kissing the ring of a more powerful man in my time was a way of swearing fealty. I did it unthinking when I was first brought across and it's become his favorite way of reminding me that I'm not quite my own."

Stokes didn't want to upset Nick, but he asked anyway. "Well, we're _not_ quite our own, are we? I mean, even Lacroix had to have a master, right? So technically he's not his own either."

"Lacroix' master is dead," Nick said flatly. "Permanently dead. I killed her myself and watched as Lacroix burned her body. He is most definitely his own and woe betide anyone that tells him otherwise."

Stokes' eyes were huge. "You killed Lacroix' master? Wasn't he angry with you?"

"Hardly. She was insane. She tried to kill me and failed and was in the process of killing Lacroix when I staked her. I gave him just that much more leverage." Nick's voice sounded very bitter and Stokes thought a subject change was in order.

"Say, I wonder where Nat's got to?" he wondered aloud. "We know she didn't go for ice."

"Probably in Schanke's room," Nick responded. "I'll go and get her."

When Stokes was in the room alone he heaved a gigantic sigh. Nick had told him from the beginning that he and his master didn't get along very well, but he wasn't prepared for all the back and forth. Earlier in the evening he'd noticed it as well. They were best friends one minute and hated each other the next. Or Nick hated Lacroix every other minute anyway. Lacroix, he was sure, felt exactly the same about Nick all the time – he just didn't know how to show it. It seemed to him that Lacroix genuinely thought of Nick as a son, but rarely showed the "father" side of himself. Nick, on the other hand, saw him as a master, whom he resented, and Lacroix only reinforced the belief. It boiled down to two stubborn old men, Stokes thought with a small grin. Then he remembered that said stubborn old men could read his mind and gulped, looking around nervously.

"Nat, it's safe now," Nick called through the door to Schanke's room.

The door opened. "Safe to do what?" Schanke asked, nonchalantly.

"Err, to come back to the room," Nick said stupidly.

"And it wasn't safe before?"

"Uh…"

Schanke sighed at his partner, wafting a faint scent of garlic, and shook his head. "Get in here, Nick."

Nick stepped through the door and Schanke shut it after him. "Did you need something, Schank?" Nick asked, trying desperately to get back in control of his situation.

Schanke rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to know what the deal is with the case. We told them _we'd_ help, and then you left on your own. What's up?"

"I just thought you might like to actually relax on your vacation, for once. Spend some time with Myra and Jenny."

"Uh huh. Not buying it, Nick. Why don't you want me in on this one? I know what we're dealing with. We have had this kind of case before, in case you don't remember."

"It's the truth. I wanted you to spend some time with your family. You know me, can't stand to be idle, and all that."

"Nick, Nick, Nick." Schanke shook his head again. "I think the real reason you want me off this case, and any case like it – don't think I haven't noticed – is that you're afraid I'll get hurt."

"Why would I think that, Schanke? You're every bit as good a cop as me, Hell, better sometimes."

"I can see I'm going to have to do this the hard way. I had hoped that you would just come out and say it to me one day, but I guess not. Here it goes. Nick, I know what you are. I figured it out ages ago."

Nick pretended to be amused as a last ditch effort to deflect his partner. "And what am I Schanke?"

"Can it, Partner. I know you're a vampire, and Lacroix and Janette too. It's the only explanation."

Nick's jaw dropped. "What makes you say that?"

Schanke growled. "Nick! Blood for painting in your refrigerator and nothing else in the whole house? Allergy to sunlight? Allergy to garlic? Old New York driver's license with your mug on it that hasn't aged a day in over forty years? Outrunning every suspect, whether in a car or on foot? The way you suddenly appear and disappear? Any of this ringing a bell? Cuz' it sure rang mine."

"How long have you known?" Nick asked weakly.

"Since I talked to Lacroix that time at the radio station."

"But…but I thought he…you…" Nick stammered.

"You thought I'd forgotten, that he'd erased my memory, convinced me otherwise?"

Nick nodded solemnly.

"Sorry, no. As a matter of fact he convinced me. But he also convinced me of the fact that you are one of the good guys. You know what he said to me?" Nick shook his head. "That you were just like me; that you didn't like to kill people any more than I did. He told me you were a decent guy. I took a step back and you know what I realized? He was right. You back me up and bail me out, and you're there when I need you. That's what counts. It's icing if you can't get killed in the process. That's why I didn't say anything, man. You're my best bud, my partner."

Nick was stunned. "_Lacroix_ said all that about me? You do realize that from him all that stuff is an insult, right?"

Schanke sighed. "You are one dense man, Partner. See, I figured out Lacroix' monologues too. They're always on topic, about whatever you're doing. Sheez, read between the lines a little, Nick. The guy looks out for you. I mean, he is like your dad, right?"

"So he says," Nick groaned. This was bad, very, very bad. Lacroix would kill him for sure now. But then again, Schanke had managed to not say anything so far. It might keep. And if Lacroix couldn't hypnotize the man, he was obviously a resistor of the highest degree, so Nick had no chance of making him forget at all. Nick rubbed his temples. "Look, Schanke, I'm sorry I never told you myself. But there are rules about that. I'm not really allowed to tell anyone unless I plan on bringing them across. You've got to keep absolutely silent about this, just like you have been. It could be very bad for the both of us if anyone in the Community found out you know."

"Sure, Nick. No problem. I didn't even tell Myra. But Nat knows, right? I mean, she must. She's your doctor."

"Yeah, Nat knows too. It's actually how I met her." Schanke looked inquisitive, so Nick filled him in. "I got blown up one night and wheeled into her morgue."

Schanke's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Blown up?" Schanke mouthed silently. "Okay," he said aloud. "So, are you going to admit now that you're afraid I'll get hurt?"

"Fine, yes. That is exactly the reason I don't like you on these cases. You're a good friend Schanke and what we do is dangerous enough without my weirdness making it more so. I'd hate to see you get hurt because of that. It's not exactly in the job description, you know."

"Well, now that you've admitted it, I'll back off."

"What?"

"I just wanted you to be honest with me, Nick. That's all. You run across any more of these, you let me know and I'll take precautions or work on something else. No big deal. Just keep me updated. So, with this case, what do you have so far? I won't bug you, but I do want the details, if you wouldn't mind."

"Okay. Here goes. The guy in the alley was killed by a vampire. I don't know him. It was just dumb luck that I was there."

"Your weird look, I gather," Schanke interrupted.

"I guess. Anyway, when Grissom questioned me, he collected hairs after the interview and grew what makes me like I am. Nat compares it to a virus, but it's not really. He grew a lot of it and one of the CSI's was infected."

"Man oh man oh man," Schanke breathed. "He's a vampire now, too?"

"Yeah. So, I'm getting him settled when I realize I have to call Lacroix, which I did and he's here now too. Everything's a mess Schanke," Nick confessed. "The elder of Las Vegas and I have history and I don't know if he'll be of any help to us, Lacroix's irritated that Grissom knows what I am, and Stokes is having to deal with all of this… Ugh!" Nick ran his hands through his hair, tugging on it. "To top it off, I'm going to have Nat mad at me because I have to train Nick and that means I've got to drink human blood instead of steer. Like I said, it's a mess."

"Whoa. Headache city. Nothing I can do?"

"Well, I suppose, since Nick and I aren't doing it and we said we would, that you could look up Canadian files involving cases like this one. There won't be anyone found officially, but it would look good if we gave them what we have. I know it's busy work and it's not going to actually be of use, but I need some cover. Would you do that for me?"

"Not a problem, Partner. Now, I believe you were looking for Nat. She and Myra went down to the hotel casino to play the slot machines. They're perfectly fine and they'll be back when the quarters run out, I imagine, so let's get started. I know you brought your laptop, so can I use it?"

"Yeah, come on and get it. You can meet Nick too. He's a good guy, and taking all of this better than I expected. Still, it's going to hit home soon and when it does…"

"Uh huh," Schanke grunted noncommittally.

Back in his own hotel room, Nick Knight made the introductions, as promised.

"Nick, this is my partner, Don Schanke. Schanke, my new fledgling, Nick Stokes."

Stokes was astonished at the title. "He knows about you?" he squeaked.

"Yeah," Nick answered. "But I didn't know he knew until just now."

Sensing an awkward moment looming, Schanke took charge. "Pleased to meet you," he grinned, and extended his hand. Stokes took it hesitantly. "Sorry about the whole 'lab accident' thing," he continued, "but Nick's a good guy. I'm sure he'll teach you what you need to know."

"He's doing a good job so far, in my opinion, although, I'm still really too new at this to learn much of anything at the moment."

Schanke shrugged. "So, Nick, the busy work… Where's your lap top partner?"

Nick crossed the room and knelt by the room's safe. As he was fiddling with the dial, Schanke turned again to Stokes. "So, what's it like, anyway?" he asked the younger man.

Stokes looked taken aback. "Odd," he finally said, after a pause. "I still feel like myself most of the time, but then, bam! I get slammed with supernatural mumbo jumbo, which last week I would have told you was impossible, and suggested that you get psychiatric help if you believed in it." Schanke was silent, so Stokes continued. "For instance, I woke up tonight fully prepared to believe that all this was a bad dream."

"But…?" Schanke prodded when Stokes paused again.

"I, uh, woke up hungry," Stokes admitted. "Starving, as a matter of fact." He ducked his head, and wouldn't meet Schanke's eyes.

"So? You woke up hungry. It happens to me all the time. I can't imagine it never happened to you before now," Schanke replied. He had figured out part of what happened already, but thought Stokes should say it himself.

"Of course," Stokes said quickly. "But, I woke up with… with fangs. And there was nothing in my house that I could eat except, well, Nick." This time, Schanke had nothing to say. He was severely tongue-tied. But Stokes took his silence as understanding, so he continued. "It was weird as all Hell. There I was, with basically a stranger in my house, sleeping on my couch, when suddenly, we've got our teeth in each other's wrists for breakfast! And it was the best breakfast I'd ever had. Imagine the most wonderful thing you've ever eaten, then magnify it by a thousand and you'll come close. He tastes like honey and sweet wine. I didn't want to stop, just because of the taste, but then, there's the added bonus of an internal movie, showing the life and times of Nicholas B. Knight. Plus, he's my Sire, so I always want his blood anyway. I'm just programmed for it, now." Schanke was now blushing furiously. "I'm sorry," Stokes said. "I've embarrassed you and myself as well. I'm sure you didn't need or want to know that."

"No, no," Schanke said, "that's fine. You needed to tell someone not connected with the whole thing. I get it. You just surprised me is all. Intellectually, I knew that Nick is a vampire. It's just, I've seen him eat before, even when I didn't know about him. Usually, he drinks out of a coffee mug. I guess I never really thought it through though. Vampires have fangs for a reason. It makes sense that some of his meals would be, er, fresh. Not to mention, I know who Nick's Sire is. It really wasn't your story that embarrassed me. It was the thought of my partner always wanting Lacroix' blood. No wonder they have such a strained relationship. I was just thinking how stupid I am, not to have made that leap before now. Nick seems like he can't stand the guy, from the way he talks about him, but there's still that little bit of wistfulness too, like he would love to patch things up." He glanced over at Nick, who was finished with the safe and staring at the two of them. Clearly, he was embarrassed as well.

"If you two are finished discussing what can get you killed," he growled, "maybe I can get to bed sometime soon. The sun is nearly up."

Stokes felt awful, and he wasn't sure just how much of it was his own guilt and what was Nick's embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Nick," he said at once. "I didn't mean to bring you into the conversation like that at all. I just wanted someone else – on the objective outside – to know, if not understand how it feels. I guess I just got carried away. It won't happen again."

Schanke sighed. "I guess it's partly my fault too. I did ask him what it was like. I should have been prepared for the answer. I don't want you to second guess yourself around me concerning Lacroix. I know you two have a very unique relationship, and my knowledge shouldn't have anything to do with it. You want his blood, like Nick here wants yours, well, that's none of my business, really. But just so you know, I have the same trouble with souvlaki."

Nick smiled at the joke. "I forgive you Schanke. This time. But the next time the two of you get the urge to discuss personal matters, you should remember that the guy you're talking about can hear a pin drop from a mile away and he can read one of your minds." He turned to Stokes. "As for you, I suppose you're a little young to ground, being only two days old and all, so I'll let you off light this time. I'm commencing flying lessons first thing tomorrow, since we have to wait for Lacroix to speak to Marcus. I suggest you get some sleep. Before you know it, it will be breakfast time again."

Stokes blushed redder than any vampire Nick had ever seen, before ducking his head and putting his face in his hands. Schanke just stared at them both, slack-jawed, before starting to chuckle. It soon became a full-fledged belly laugh and Schanke had tears running down his face. "Good day, both of you," he managed to gasp, before scooping up the laptop and vanishing from the room.

Stokes was slowly becoming pale again. "Was that last bit necessary?" he asked, shame-faced.

"I don't know," Nick replied. "Was my specific flavor really a necessary bit of information?"

Just as he became a normal shade, Stokes started to blush again. "I'm so sorry," he whispered miserably. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I told him that. I think I felt like I needed some justification for what I was feeling. It's all so strange. I've never felt like this before, obviously, but nothing in my mortal life was close either. Not even with… with my mom. I've never felt like I had to be around someone before. And I guess I thought that when that feeling happened, it would be _the one_, you know, not some stranger. Definitely not a _guy_. But the fact is, I physically seem to need you around. I'm anxious and tense when I'm alone, but I calm down again the second you're in sight. Just now, when you went to talk to Detective Schanke, I got so wound up that I nearly tackled you as you came in the door. I don't know what to do with myself. I want…I want…" Stokes shuddered and closed his eyes, a red tear tracking down his face. He drew in a steadying breath that he didn't really need. "I dreamed last night. I dreamed we were close together, feeding. We had our fangs in each other's necks. Our faces were almost touching. It was so good, so frightening. That's what really woke me. That's what I wanted, what I want now, but I'm scared. I'm terrified of what it means."

Now it was Nick's turn to be miserable. He hadn't meant to make the poor kid cry. Yes, he'd been slightly embarrassed that Schanke knew something of that nature, but this was completely unexpected. He didn't know why he hadn't picked up on it before this. He'd been through all this himself, after all. And in a time far less accepting than this one. "I was only teasing you," he began, but stopped. What could he say? He'd crossed a line apparently, all unknowing and now he had to deal with it intelligently.

"You are no different now than you were before," Nick began again, trying to reassure his son. "You're not going crazy, and your true preferences haven't changed. But you're young. Truly, you're just an infant. And think of what infants do. They eat and they sleep. If this had been done normally, you and I would be somewhere secluded, so that you had time to adjust and sort things out. What you're feeling is not quite what you think. It's the strong bond we're building cementing itself in your mind. It will not exactly fade with time, but you can learn to dampen it, to control it. But for now, you are a two-day-old fledgling, struggling with the added pressures of the situation, as though the normal ones that come along with being brought across are not enough."

"But what about the dream?" Stokes asked, voice wavering.

"As I said, you are young," Nick answered. "Your mind and body are still changing, and they know what they need. Think about it, Nicky, logically. Why does a body need blood?"

"To carry oxygen of course," Stokes answered.

"And where does the blood pick up oxygen?"

"In the lungs. Where are you going with this?"

"Let me finish and you'll see. Now, where is the closest access point to the lungs, where the blood will have the most oxygen? What joint?"

Stokes' eyes widened. "The neck, the carotid artery, close to the shoulder. Blood would be thickest, the most oxygen-rich, from the neck, where it's going to feed the brain."

Nick nodded. "So where do you think it is the most nourishing for us? Why do you think vampires traditionally drink from the neck? Usually, there is little to do with romance or even eroticism. It is simply the healthiest place to get it, and one of the easiest too. It is so close to the surface and there's so much of it that we naturally gravitate there. We can smell it, even unconsciously. Think of it as a potassium craving. Didn't you ever just have the urge to eat a banana? Your potassium was probably low and your body knew it could get more easily with just a few bites. The same goes for feeling like you have to be close. It is a craving for mental well-being. Just like an infant wants its mother for stability and reliable nutrition, a fledgling wants their sire. It's just the natural order of things. Trust me, the anxiety and tenseness will wear off, and you'll feel like you can't wait to get rid of me. For all intents and purposes, you simply have to grow up again, and it takes time, just like when you were mortal."

"But it feels like so much more than that," Stokes replied. He was still crying. "Why does it feel like more than that?"

"Nicky," Nick said, using the diminutive for a purpose. He hoped it would make the younger man see him properly, as a parent. "You are a 31-year-old infant. Yes, it seems like a contradiction, but in addition to being newly born, you are also a grown man, with needs and desires, and life experience. You projected your infant needs in the context of a grown man's experiences. None of us remember being infants, so how could you know what it was you were feeling?"

"Oh, God!" Stokes sobbed. "I don't want this! Any of it. I never did. It was an accident!" Suddenly, he lunged at Nick, too quick for mortal eyes to follow. But the bond was wide open now, and Nick knew he was in no danger. He simply braced himself and caught his son in a bear hug. He tilted his head and instinctually, Nicky sought the artery right under the surface. Nick returned the embrace gladly, eagerly feeding and being fed upon. Finally, Nicky broke away, so Nick did the same, tucking the boy's head under his chin. Nicky whimpered slightly, and squeezed his eyes closed.

"I know. I know," Nick soothed, rubbing his child's back and running his fingers through the short hair. His shirt would soon be ruined, but that was a small price to pay for his serious lapse in judgment.

"I just want out of this nightmare," Stokes whispered, clutching Nick's already wrinkled and stained shirt in his fist.

"I understand more than you know," Nick replied. "I look everyday for a cure, a way out, a loophole. Maybe someday I'll find one and we can be free again. But right now, we've got to do the best we can. We can start by doing things properly. I should have explained things better to you from the beginning. I should have been with you that first night, even if it might have made you uncomfortable for a while. Instead, I let it slide. I let _mortal_ social constraints get in the way of our immortal natures. I knew you needed me and I neglected you. For that, I'm truly sorry. One of Lacroix' first lessons to me was, "Let go your mortal bonds." I always thought he meant my mortal conscience, but now I realize he meant this as well. I was just too stubborn to see it. No wonder the rest of my fledglings didn't make it. I'm an awful sire; far worse than Lacroix could ever be. At least he pays attention to his children. I never did."

Stokes let go of Nick's shirt and backed away. He squared his shoulders bravely and brushed away the traces of tears on his face. "We should go tell him, Nick. He deserves to know that you think he's a good father. I think it would help you both."

Nick nodded. "You're right. All this time, I've thought of him as _master_, when it should have been _father_. I resented him for that. Oh, I called him father to please him, but I never felt it was completely true until now. I just hope I'm not too late."

The epiphany was had and the decision made, so the pair cleaned themselves up as best they could and went in search of one of the oldest living beings in the world.

Nick knocked softly on the door. It opened immediately, though Lacroix was dressed for bed. He still looked impeccable, even in his pajamas. He noticed the tear-stained face of young Nicholas straight away. It didn't really faze him. The lad was young, so his emotions were bound to be all over the place. He'd tuned Nicholas out after that last scene. He hadn't wanted to feel the simmering anger, resentment, and sense of betrayal. He knew he'd hurt Nicholas' pride terribly, but it was necessary, he felt, to establish dominance once again, now that he had a viable fledgling, while the new instincts that came with it made him malleable.

"Was there something you needed, Nicholas?" asked imperiously.

"Father," Nick said, for the first time feeling that it was a true title, "may we come in?"

Lacroix felt the change in his son immediately. Never had Nicholas called him Father in that tone. He threw open the bond they shared and confirmed his wildest dreams. "Of course, Nicholas. I am never too busy for you. You know that." He stepped back so the two younger men could enter. As soon as they were inside and the door had closed, Nick pounced upon Lacroix much the same way Nicky had done to him earlier, and with the same results.

Lacroix gathered his son in to him and kissed the top of his head. Nick buried his nose in the crook of Lacroix' shoulder and neck and took a deep breath. Lacroix tilted his head away, to give his Nicholas more room. "May I?" Nicholas asked meekly.

"My son, drink your fill," Lacroix responded, tears threatening for the first time in over a millennium. Gently, Nick eased his fangs into the cold flesh and began to drink his personal elixir of life. It was musky, and raw, just like he remembered it. It tasted of rain on new earth and stately old forests. He was home. For the first time in centuries, he experienced this pure joy. Tears were sliding down his face, of pure contentment and happiness, and not a few in regret for wasted opportunities.

Nicky felt like he was on cloud nine. The bliss rolling off of Nick as he fed from his long estranged sire was nearly palpable. It threatened to sweep him off his feet, and suddenly, he realized that he was no longer standing on the floor. He was floating about six inches above it, along with the other two vampires in the room. Startled, he thumped back down and lost his balance, ending up sitting against the dresser.

Lacroix raised an eyebrow at him, floating gently back down to the carpet with Nick still wrapped in his arms. "My son," he said quietly, "it is good to have you back. I've missed you terribly." Finally, Nick removed his fangs, full to the top from his two feedings, and feeling sloshy inside. Lacroix wavered slightly, feeling dizzy from blood-loss. He hadn't returned the blood kiss. It had felt too good to float there, feeling his golden child feeding again.

Nick was instantly concerned. "Father, you let me take too much without giving anything back," he said, helping his sire to sit on the bed.

Lacroix still wasn't fazed. "Nothing I can't get back," he murmured, as he lay back on the bed. Nick curled up next to him and closed his eyes. Lacroix gestured to Nicky, who was still sitting against the dresser in awe. Quickly taking the hint, Nicky turned off the lights and he too curled up on the bed, next to his own sire, so that Nick was sandwiched in the middle. But he was already deeply asleep and the other two weren't far behind. No nightmares plagued any of them that day, sprawled against each other as they were. In fact, their sleep was so deep and content, that none of them stirred even when Natalie softly entered the room.

She had come back from playing the slots to find an empty room, the floor splattered with what she recognized as vampire tears, and figured that the hard truth of his new existence must have hit Nick Stokes. What she didn't expect though, as she walked back down the hall again, this time to truly get ice, were the droplets in front of another room. Worried, she found a maid and told her she'd locked herself out of her room. The woman obligingly let her in and turned away. Natalie left the door open so she would have some light. There, on the bed were three generations of a vampire family. Despite her feelings for Lacroix, Natalie couldn't help but feel that this was how things should be.

Lacroix was on his back, with one hand under his head and the other was wrapped around Nick, who was curled up on his sire's chest. Stokes was spooned behind Nick, with one arm around his middle, his nose buried in Nick's shirt between the shoulder blades. All of them were snoring softly, completely at peace, contentment rolling off of them in waves. She wished she had a camera. It was a true Kodak moment if ever there was one. None of the three showed any signs of stirring, so she softly shut the door and went back to her own room, wondering what had brought about the strange tableau.

Meanwhile, Grissom was stalled in his investigation. Or non-investigation, as the case currently stood. He didn't like loose ends and the thought of someone being sentenced without due process grated on him. It didn't matter the crime, or the being. The law was there for everyone. If the vampires chose not to use it, they were setting themselves above the law. What was next? Where did it end? He didn't want to think about it.

Abruptly, he remembered the cross and stake in his pockets. He wondered just how effective they would really be, if he needed them. After all, Detective Knight had physically touched it, in order to put it in his pocket. And what guarantee did he have that the stake would be any more effective? Stokes' splinter had seemed very nasty, but he had healed instantly when it was removed. Suppose a staked vampire just pulled out the offending weapon and kept on coming, now armed with a stake himself. Grissom shuddered. He couldn't even believe he was pondering such a thing. Fighting vampires was strictly for Hollywood to do, he had thought, but here he was, confronted with at least three supernatural beings, one of whom claimed to be a Roman general, another who had fought in the Crusades, and the last was the most disturbing. Nick Stokes was a friend, a good man he'd known for several years now. He was thoughtful and sensitive.

That was what really bothered him. He wondered how sensitive Nick would handle all of this in the long run. He hadn't gotten too many details, but Grissom had seen enough movies and read enough fiction to throw together something that resembled the truth. Obviously, vampires no longer _had_ to kill to feed. However, they were predators. The true top of the food chain, and as such, they must have instincts to hunt, to find prey, to kill. How long would it be before these instincts overcame his friend? Could Detective Knight stop him? Would he? Or would he join in the wild frenzy and the two of them go on a spree? He was certain that Lucien Lacroix would have no compunctions about killing. He'd practically said so himself. The only thing stopping Lacroix from ripping out Grissom's own throat was the disapproval of his "son," who had earlier threatened him as well, showing a dark, predatory side even without his master's influence.

That was another thing that bothered him. All these dominating titles were beyond strange. _Master, Sire, Father_. They were all power plays, meant to bend young ones to the authority of old ones, or so it seemed. But _Father_ was what worried him most. That implied familial ties, and strong ones. A title like that naturally came with loyalty. He wondered if Stokes had called Detective Knight that yet. It seemed so odd. He knew about Nick's parents in Texas. They were good people, if a little distant with their son. How did he feel about them now? For that matter, how did he feel about any of the people he interacted with? Were humans considered cattle, or did they have some value other than nutrition? Knight seemed to care about humans. After all, he was a homicide detective. It was very confusing, because he knew that Knight had been a killer in his past, and he was certain that Lacroix still was.

Stokes must know, of course, how dangerous this new "family" of his was. But on the other hand, what could he do about it? As it had been pointed out to him, Nick was now dangerous himself, and a veritable baby, compared to the other two and most of the other vampires in the world. That sent another shiver through Grissom's marrow. He could identify this hidden race, and he didn't know how or why. He knew he'd felt the cold chill before in various situations, even ones that didn't seem dangerous at the time. A woman at a bus stop had once asked for the time when it had happened. Thinking back, it had been nearly six in the morning. The woman was trying to beat the dawn. He wondered if she had, and how close he had come to death that morning. He would never ignore that cold finger on his spine again.

But why did he have it? Was it a natural talent? Was it the sixth sense of a prey animal subconsciously identifying a predator? Or was it something more sinister, or even, more supernatural? Was there someone in his family who had been attacked by one of these monsters and escaped, half becoming what they dreaded, and passing it down to their descendants? After all, hadn't Nick said they were all connected by some sort of telepathy? He'd seen it demonstrated right in his office.

"God, what if I share something with them?" Grissom asked himself aloud. After all, these vampires were centuries old. Who knew, if something like his morbid fantasy had happened, how long ago in the past it was? If his theory was plausible, he could very well be somehow related to Nick's vampire family. He had to know.

Moving swiftly, he crossed his lab to the compound microscope again. The very one that had started all the trouble. Drawing a sterile lancet from a drawer, he ripped it open and quickly jabbed his finger. A small drop welled and he stared at it for a moment, considering. He'd looked at his own blood and tissues before, of course. But he was never looking for anything specific. He didn't even know now, if his theory was correct, if he would be able to detect anything. But the virus-that-was-not-really-a-virus was distinctive, and rather large, considering. If it was there, he should be able to find it. Preparing the slide was the longest minute he'd ever spent and his hands were shaking badly from nerves. Putting the glass under the microscope lens, he shuddered and prepared himself for the worst. Almost immediately, he blew a sigh of relief. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but he studied the sample minutely, just in case. He noticed that he'd been lucky in securing a white blood cell as well as red. He wished he hadn't. There, tucked between the arms of a chromatid, he saw the familiar shape.

"No!" he shouted, but calmed immediately. "Okay, Gil, you're a scientist. Think this through. You found a foreign body in one of your cells. It's probably been there all your life. Nothing is different now, except you know what it is. That should be a good thing. It's not cancer and it gives you a distinct advantage. You don't need to drink blood, and you've never been uncomfortable in the sun. Everything is fine."

_But everything is not fine_ a small gibbering voice in his head spoke. _You're a part of the madness, part of something that you never believed to exist. You may not be one of them, but you're closer than most people. How much of the virus do you think it would take for you to be converted? Could the same thing that happened to Nick happen to you? After all, you're predisposed, pre-sick._

Grissom shut down this morbid line of thinking before it could go any further. He WAS fine. He would BE fine for a long while. Nothing had happened to him so far, and as far as he knew, none of the vampires knew he could sense them. But that didn't mean he couldn't ask, out of professional curiosity, did it? Of course not. He'd ask Detective Knight about it as soon as he saw him again. The little voice laughed at him, none too nicely.

After her discovery, Natalie went straight to her room and to bed. Disappointed as she was that Nick probably wouldn't be staying on his bovine diet in his search with her for a cure, she was also truly happy for him. He'd apparently made amends with the one person who'd known him his whole life. Lacroix was not a good person. She knew that. But he was the only family Nick had, aside from Janette, who seemed to be an on-again-off-again kind of relationship. But Lacroix – he was steady as a rock. She knew that if Nick were ever having problems, Lacroix would welcome him. He might seem disdainful and haughty, but it was just a façade. She'd seen the old man's eyes light up when he spoke about Nick.

And CSI Stokes seemed to have been accepted into the fold as well. Small wonder, she realized, when it was Stokes who necessitated Nick's change in diet. Lacroix would have welcomed him for that reason only, but there seemed to be a deeper connection there as well. She thought about the way the three men were positioned on the bed. The oldest watching over the younger members of his family was how it had struck her, even though none of them had been aware at all. Nick had been surrounded by love and acceptance as he slept, peacefully for once. Nat knew for a fact that most of the time, unless he was just dog-tired Nick tossed and turned all day long, waking frequently from dreams and nightmares he'd never tell her about. She suspected they were mostly of Lacroix, good and bad. Nick feigned indifference and hatred for his sire and she didn't doubt that on occasion, the feelings were genuine; but on the whole, it was just like any other parent-child relationship. They both loved each other, but hated to admit it.

She hoped that Nick and Stokes would have an easier time of it than Nick and Lacroix, but she doubted very much that they were always as close as now. Stokes was still young and he needed guidance. He accepted that for now, but eventually, he'd want to leave the nest, and Nick would feel he wasn't ready. That was how it went. Kids got older, and parents didn't see it until it was too late. It didn't matter if you looked at humans or vampires.

Finally, Natalie felt her thoughts begin to slow and even the vampires in her life slipped from her mind. She slept soundly until around noon, when she woke refreshed. She stretched and yawned before dressing and finding her cell phone. She saw that she had one missed call. It was from Gil Grissom. There was a message.

_"Hello, Dr. Lambert. This is Gil Grissom. I was wondering if you would be able to answer a few questions that popped into my head last night, concerning Detective Knight and CSI Stokes. Please give me a call anytime when you get this message."_

Grissom had not been able to let the questions in his mind go. But as the morning wore on, he became more and more concerned about asking the vampires any probing questions. He worried that they would see through his attempts to be casual and find out that he could sense them. Finally, he sprang upon the answer. Dr. Lambert could tell him. She was relatively safe, being mortal, and she was Knight's doctor, though he couldn't think what a vampire would need with a general physician. In any case, she was his best bet. He called and left a message on her cell phone, then waited eagerly for her to call back. Finally, the phone rang. He jumped a mile high, and then laughed at himself for being so up tight.

"Gil Grissom, Las Vegas Crime Lab," he answered professionally.

"Hello, it's Natalie Lambert," came the voice on the other end. "You said you had some questions for me. I'd be happy to answer them, if I can. Let's meet for coffee. Where is there a good place?"

Grissom told her the address to the small diner where he and his team often had meals together. The food was good and there was enough noise that their conversation wasn't likely to be overheard. When they had both arrived and gotten settled with their steaming mugs, Grissom dove right in.

"So, how long have you known Detective Knight?" he asked, genuinely interested. Theirs seemed an odd relationship and he wanted to know more about it.

Nat laughed. "Since he was rolled into my lab in body bag," she replied. "That was about, oh my God, over ten years ago."

"He was rolled into the morgue? What happened?"

"It was before he'd joined the police force. Nick was trying desperately to forgive himself, and as penance for his past, he was trying to protect the people on the street. Someone tossed him a pipe bomb for his trouble. But it didn't decapitate him or burn him badly enough to be fatal, so he recovered and scared the hell out of me."

"Wow, that's some kind of 'how we met' story. And how about Mr. Lacroix? When did you meet him?"

"It was a couple years after that before we finally met each other. Nick had told me about him, but I was completely unprepared when I actually met the man."

"How so?"

"Well, he's a hard man. He's lived through some of the toughest historical periods on record and come away unscathed. He's quite probably one of the oldest beings on the planet. According to Nick, he's only two generations removed from the first recorded vampires in Egypt, and he's a direct descendant of what they call the First. So not only is he ancient, he's practically royalty. The heir to the vampire tradition, you might say. I think that's why he was always so hard on poor Nick."

"Fascinating. And Detective Knight told you all of this?"

"Yes, but it took some real work on my part to drag it from him. He doesn't like to talk about himself, you know. And he was very embarrassed when he admitted his 'family line' as it were. It makes him uncomfortable to think that he's special. I doubt he's even told Mr. Stokes yet. Won't that be a shock? 'Oh, by the way, not only are you now a vampire, you're a prince too.' But undoubtedly it will be me who has to tell him that." Nat rolled her eyes.

"And what about conversions? How much information have you got on those?"

"Plenty. Nick told me the basics of the operation when we first met and I slowly got more out of him. What would you like to know?"

"Well, I was wondering if it was possible that someone not be fully…converted I guess."

"The term is brought across, and yes, that's possible. Usually it results in a Hunter. They're more or less mortal, but they can sense the vampires and generally hunt them down in revenge. Hence the name. Why were you wondering about that?"

Grissom's heart was beating very fast. His theory was plausible. "Oh, I was interested in the accelerated metabolism that vampires seem to display, when it comes to healing. I wondered if it could ever be used as a medical tool, if the side effects could be overcome."

"I quite often wonder about that myself," Nat replied. "As a matter of fact, I've done several studies on rats that seem to indicate that it's possible. However, the possibility for infection is enormous. One drop too many and the rat has to be put in the sun, if you get my meaning. And there's no way to predict which one is going to be sensitive. So, we have a potential miracle with a hidden curse. I have been able to come up with a ratio in rats for the sensitivity. It's approximately point-oh-three percent of the population. With humans, it's harder to predict because there are people already minimally infected, as you thought earlier. Hunters are able to have children and they pass the trait down, though it becomes diluted. But you knew that, didn't you?"

Grissom's heart nearly stopped. "I beg your pardon?"

Natalie narrowed her eyes. "I know you can sense vampires, Mr. Grissom. And Nick is already aware of that fact too, as is Lacroix. You gave yourself away very early on when you were suspicious of Nick for no reason. So, have you checked your cells yet for the anomaly?"

"Yes," Grissom whispered in horror. "It's there. There's not much, but I found it lurking in a white blood cell. I'm frightened Dr. Lambert. None of this makes sense. If you had come to me a week ago, and told me that the cold chill up my back every so often is an internal vampire alert, I wouldn't have believed a word of it. But now I find out that I'm more related to the madness than I care to be and I don't know what it means. Can they sense me? Am I in danger? Can they read my mind? Is it safe for me to donate blood, or am I passing this along to everyone else? Could my blood trigger a conversion event?" Grissom put his head in his hands.

Natalie looked at him sadly. She remembered feeling some of the same things when she first found out about the secret world of vampires. "I don't have any answers to those questions, Gil. But I do know someone who may."

"I can't talk to the vampires about this, Natalie. I'm petrified of Lacroix and Knight isn't much better. But I have this nagging thought, too. What if it was one of them that did this to my ancestor? There's no way for me to know, is there? But I could be related to them, distantly. It's a sobering thought especially with the new information you've just given me."

"Actually, in fifteen years, I've learned a thing or two about this virus," Natalie told him. "It contains its own markers. Not DNA, unfortunately, but enough distinctions that I've been able to discern between several families. I could tell you whether or not you're related to Nick."

Grissom's jaw dropped. "Does that mean that the organism, virus, whatever, is acting like a mitochondrion? If it has its own markers, well, that's amazing."

"That's what I thought too. And yes, it does seem to fuel the cell like an extra mitochondrion. But the effects are not the same. Whereas mitochondria actually power the cell by breaking apart ATP, the virus does something else entirely. It vibrates at a specific rate, which is able to be picked up by others, even in another host. The more closely related, the better they can 'talk', so we see a form of telepathy. In your case, I feel that the amount of virus in your body is so negligible, that the cold feeling you get is a condensed kind of wave, trying to put out the message, 'I'm here, come commune with me,' because the organism, if you like, is social. In effect, they're trying to get you to communicate with vampires so they can gossip. But there aren't enough of them to send a pulse outside your body. The vampires can't detect you, but you can detect them."

"How long would it take you to find out if I'm related to your bunch?" Grissom asked.

"An hour and a half tops," Natalie replied confidently, "including travel time, provided that you still have the sample you took."

"I do. It's at the lab. Can we do this now? It's eating at me, not knowing."

Natalie nodded. They paid for their coffees and headed out to the Las Vegas Crime Lab. When they were back in Grissom's lab, Natalie peered into the microscope at the slide. She immediately saw the virus, small though it was. She knew what she was looking for.

"Have you got any phenol red?" she asked.

"Of course. What is that for?" Grissom asked, as he handed her a small dropper of red liquid.

"It helps to see the markers on the virus clearly. They're mostly external, kind of like antigen markers." She applied the chemical to the slide, very sparingly. It didn't take much to see the markers, and too much obscured everything. As the dye was absorbed, more and more detail was available to her experienced eye. Finally, she saw what she was looking for, and glanced up from the scope.

"Well?" Grissom asked impatiently.

"You're related to them," she stated. "There's a very distinctive marker that proves it. Have a look for yourself. It's the one on the upper right."

Grissom peered through the lens and saw immediately what she was talking about. "That is distinctive," he remarked. "It looks just like star."

Natalie nodded once more. "I call it the royal gem, but Nick doesn't appreciate the title much. Sorry I can't be more specific for you though. I can only tell general family lines, not individuals. And actually, Lacroix' family is rather diverse. He has quite a few grown fledglings that I've heard of. Sort of like Nick's brothers and sisters. But I don't know if one of them attacked your ancestor, or if it was Lacroix himself. Now, the only question is whether or not you want to tell anyone about this discovery."

"You mean the vampires, of course," Grissom groaned.

"Well, they are kind of your family in a way. Think of them as the weird cousins no one wants to sit next to at family reunions. You never know, Lacroix might decide you're valuable and stop with the threats."

"Or, he might insist I move, just like he's doing to my CSI, so he can keep tabs on me."

"Would that be so bad? I could use a research partner. I've been on my own the whole time. No one else can be trusted to maintain the secret. But you, you have to keep quiet. You're part of the secret yourself!"

Natalie was excited. This was the first time there had even been a possibility of help in her research. In the past few years, since Nick's cure didn't seem to be panning out, she had branched out into classification of vampire families. She knew of three distinct ones so far, but she was willing to bet there were more. She just needed the time to collect samples. Basically every vampire in Toronto now knew her as the Doc. She was the one who could remove wood splinters, wash out garlic infections, and treat serious burns. Not to mention the fact that she had overcome the plague years ago. Most were willing to cooperate with her, since they didn't have the means to do any scientific testing themselves. As it turned out, vampires were largely in the dark when it came to what made them tick. Natalie was hoping to change that. But her moment of glee was interrupted by Grissom.

"I don't want them to know," he said. "Not for right now, anyway. It would just make things even more confusing than they already are."

"Okay, if that's your decision," Natalie conceded. "But I still think you should tell them."

Evening finally came again to Las Vegas, and with it, a stirring of its night time inhabitants. Nicky was the first to wake. He was pleasantly wrapped around his sire, and felt as though he could stay there forever, if not for the gnawing hunger in his belly. He yawned and felt his fangs fall into place, but it didn't bother him this evening. He just smiled and snuggled closer to the man in front of him. He knew he wasn't warm by normal standards, but he felt that way anyhow. His sire radiated a warmth that wasn't measurable in degrees. Finally, he felt Lacroix begin to stir.

"Good evening, young Nicholas," Lacroix said to him. "How did you sleep?"

"Well, thank you, Sir," Stokes replied. "I don't think I even moved an inch, I was so comfortable." He finally moved away from Nick and stretched all his muscles in one gigantic movement, throwing his arms over his head, arching his back, and pointing his toes. Lacroix chuckled.

"You seem much more relaxed this evening. How do you feel?"

Nicky thought for a minute. "Better," he finally said, staring at the ceiling. "I'm still a little uncertain about myself and Nick and you, but better, as a whole. Hopefully, the worst doubts have passed. I just need to remember that Nick is there for me, no matter what, so if I'm confused I should say so."

"Quite right, young Nicholas. You're doing fine. I'm glad to hear you so hopeful."

Nicky's stomach growled, and he grinned. "But there is nothing confusing about a growling stomach. I'm hungry."

Lacroix smiled indulgently. "In my considerable experience, fledglings are always hungry. Perhaps you should wake my Nicolas, here. He was always a late sleeper."

Nicky grinned mischievously. "Okay. Watch this."

Lacroix raised an eyebrow and pulled himself into a sitting position, so that Nick's head rested on his thigh.

"Dad, dad," Nicky called, kneeling over his vampire father and rocking him back and forth with both hands. "Wake up, we're late! You've got to go to work and I've got school. Get up!"

Nick started awake, abruptly. "What? What? Hurry up then, let's go!" he mumbled, still half asleep, before he realized what was going on. At first, he thought he might still be asleep, because Lacroix was laughing, but then he remembered just where he was and he groaned. "That is not funny! Stop laughing at me, Father! He cheated. He sent a memory down the link of when he was a boy."

This made Lacroix laugh all the harder. "You should have heard yourself, Nicholas! Gods, that was funny! Good for you young Nicholas. Keep the boy on his toes, if you can." Nick was frowning at them both, debating whether or not he really wanted a family after all.

Now Nicky was laughing too. "Father," he said, "don't pout. It doesn't suit you. Of course you want us. You love us!" Suddenly, Nicky seemed to register what he had just said, and sobered. He was Nick Stokes again, not Nicky, the young vampire. "Um, right," mumbled. "Sorry. Don't know where that came from."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Nick said. "You didn't do or say anything wrong. It was very funny. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Yeah, I guess I kind of caught myself off guard too. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted something familiar. I still do that to my dad, you know, when I go to see him. Or, at least, I did." Stokes sounded very sad, so Nick threw an arm around him and pulled him close.

"Nicky," he said firmly. "You did not lose your parents if that is what you are worried about. They will always be a part of you. And you are going to live a very long time and hold them in your memories. You just have another family now too. I am your father, just like Lacroix is mine. We may not be related according to our genes, but we are related by blood. You don't have to choose between us. Even when you have to move on and let your mortal parents go, which is going to hurt like hell – I won't lie to you, you don't have to choose. And by the way, I do love you. Both of you," he added, looking up a Lacroix. "How could I not love my father and my son?"

"It is good to hear you say that, Nicholas. I love you as well. I just wish you had figured that out centuries ago. It would have saved me quite a few needless headaches and yourself quite a few painful lessons." Nick ducked his head in acknowledgement. "Now," Lacroix continued, "I seem to recall breakfast being mentioned at some point, and I do believe I am as hungry as your fledgling. Shall we go and feed?" He had put on his clothes while Nick and Stokes were talking.

This broke the tension in the room faster than a hammer breaking window glass. "Yes!" Stokes exclaimed. "I'm hungry! Feed me Seymour!" The two older vampires looked completely blank. "Oh, come on!" Stokes said in disbelief. "You have to have seen _The Little Shop of Horrors_." Still, he could hear crickets chirping. "The Audrey II? The alien, blood-sucking plant?" Lacroix raised his expressive eyebrow at him, and Nick followed suit. "You guys are not fun," Stokes said seriously. "I come up with the perfect quote for the moment, and it's lost on my family because they're a bunch of old fuddy duddies. Typical." Stokes shook his head and turned to exit the room, when suddenly he was seized from behind. One arm went around his chest, pinning his arms and the other held his head aside. "Aack!" he said, before a gentle breath was blown across his neck. He felt his knees turn to jelly.

"I'll have you know," Lacroix breathed across his neck again, "that this old man is no fuddy duddy. And furthermore," he paused to slightly nibble the young man's tender neck with extended fangs. Stokes couldn't hold in his groan. "Neither is your father. We simply have better things to do than sit around watching silly musicals." Here, Lacroix nipped him, not quite breaking the skin.

Stokes was almost totally supported by Lacroix' arms now, when something registered. "But, I never said it was a musical," he retorted. "You knew what I was talking about the whole time! Oh, that's low!"

"No," Nick said, "That was funny!"

"Are we quite ready now?" Lacroix asked, releasing Stokes from his embrace. "Good. Let's go."

Breakfast was a short, simple affair. They went back to the bar and ordered uncut for all of them. They needed their wits about them if they were going to speak to Marcus LeMorte any time soon. It was unanimously decided that Lacroix would do all of the talking, unless a technical point needed to be answered by Nick. Stokes would be there, but say nothing and draw no attention to himself. Everyone liked this plan. It was a shame that the best laid plans of mice and vampires hardly ever worked out.

After asking around the club for about twenty minutes, the trio finally learned that Marcus LeMorte lived on the other side of town and almost never mingled with the general population. He certainly never came to this club. But they found out what they needed to know and were on their way. They took a cab, since Stokes could not fly yet, and were at the correct address within ten minutes, thanks to some creative driving and a bit of hypnotism.

The house was more like an estate. It had manicured lawns, artfully lit to show them off in the dark, a tall iron gate, and an even taller brick fence surrounding the property.

"Obviously, this guy has never heard of low profile," Stokes remarked, as they surveyed the grounds. Nick snorted in agreement.

"He's always been this way," Nick said. "The bigger, the more expensive, the gaudier, the better."

As they neared the ten foot wall, the vampires noticed video cameras discreetly mounted every fifteen feet or so. They looked not only down, at people who might be interested in jumping the fence, but also up, to spot anyone who might try to fly over. They also noticed a strong smell of garlic wafting from the top of the wall, along with what seemed to be a decorative wooden railing, with spikes every two feet.

Nick whistled. "Whew, Marcus has gotten paranoid in his old age. Wonder if anybody is actually after him."

"Even paranoid people have enemies," Stokes quipped. "And if he's really as arrogant and pompous as you say he is, I'll bet he doesn't win any popularity contests."

Lacroix motioned for them to be silent and to come stand behind him. He had found a video monitor mounted on the gate post. It was an intercom system, so he pushed the call button.

A man's face appeared on the view screen. "Good evening, Sirs. This is a private residence. If you have business please state it. Otherwise, please leave the property."

"We have come to see the elder of the city," Lacroix informed the man. "Please inform Marcus that Lucien Lacroix has arrived from Toronto."

"But of course, Sir. And who are your companions?"

"My son Nicholas and his new fledgling are accompanying me this evening."

"Very well, I shall inform my master you are here. Please wait one moment." The screen went dark and then there was a click. The gate swung open about a foot. The trio entered the property and the gate swung closed automatically behind them. They were now standing on a broad driveway, which curved up the hill and in front of the house. They slowly walked the distance, mindful of the cameras that were sure to be watching them. No one spoke, but the bonds between them were thrumming with anticipation. This was the moment of truth. Marcus would help them, in which case, they could call the case closed, or he would ignore them, in which case, they would have to deal with the rogue on their own.

Marcus LeMorte was not pleased to hear that he had visitors. Especially not these visitors. Lacroix made him nervous, and his son Nick was more than a match for him, should it come down to a fair fight, which it wouldn't. He was interested to know that Nick had taken a fledgling. He'd always heard that Nick despised being a vampire, and considered bringing someone across the worst thing that could possibly be done to them. He wondered what had changed his mind. He'd make it a point to ask. Perhaps he could get a rise out of one of them and throw them out of his city. So, he met them at the door to his home.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he called. "Lucien Lacroix and Nicholas Brabant! It has been far too long. And who is your young fledgling? Is he truly yours, Nicholas? I'd heard you didn't do that sort of thing." He smirked at Nick openly. "By the way, how are your ears? Are they still ringing?"

As Nick ground his teeth together in an effort not to say anything, Stokes realized that Marcus' reputation was well deserved. He had no tact. He could feel his master seething through their link. Since he was standing behind both Nick and Lacroix, he leaned a little to the side to see what this vampire looked like. Marcus LeMorte was shorter than both Lacroix and Nick. He had olive-toned skin, though he was as pale as any of the rest of them. His black hair was combed back away from his face and he had a severe widow's peak. All in all, Stokes thought he had a distinct Dracula look going on. He felt again that the man had no concept of "low profile."

Lacroix spoke calmly. "Yes, it has been a long time, Marcus, and much has changed. The boy's name is Stokes and he is indeed my Nicholas' fledgling. But we haven't come socially Marcus. May we come in and speak privately?"

"Yes, of course, Lacroix. Please come in." He ushered them in and down a long hallway, thickly carpeted and paneled in dark wood. "We can talk in my study," Marcus said over his shoulder. "We'll be more comfortable in there." They reached an ornate door at the end of the hall and halted. Marcus drew out a key. "Please come in," he said, unlocking the heavy bolt.

The study was an old-fashioned affair. It had a fireplace, floor to ceiling bookshelves, a huge desk, several chairs and a plush leather couch. However, there seemed to be an air of fakery, and when Stokes looked closer, he could see that none of the books were likely to be used. They were all old, battered, and mismatched sets of encyclopedias, dictionaries, and thesauruses. One shelf held modern science fiction, and it was the only one not dusty.

"Please, sit down," Marcus invited them, gesturing to the chairs. "What is so important that we couldn't speak openly?"

"There has been a kill in your city, Elder Marcus," Lacroix told him. "A sloppy one, at that. The body was discovered by my son and a mortal, so the police were called. They are having a very difficult time understanding how two puncture wounds in the man's neck resulted in fatal blood loss, when there is no blood at the scene. The one responsible needs to be taken care of, and the Enforcers need to be notified. Thanks to the local constabulary, we have discovered the name of this rogue – Vincent DiMartino."

"I know him," Marcus replied. "He's one of my brother's fledglings. It would kill poor Lorenzo if anything were to happen to Vincent. No, I cannot bring the Enforcers down on the boy. I'm sorry, Lacroix. But I will speak to him. There will be no more of this. You have my word."

All their hopes fell. This was what they had feared would happen. Now they had to do the job themselves, or face the consequences should the Enforcers ever find out what had happened. It was now officially their responsibility.

"Now, on to more social matters," Marcus continued, much to their disgust. "Tell me then, Nicholas, how did you come to have a fledgling? I'm not unaware of your past hardships with them, so I'm curious."

Nick clenched his teeth once more and looked down, trying to be polite. "It's an odd story," he finally said, when it was apparent that Marcus was not going to say anything more until he got an answer.

"Yes, and…" Marcus prodded.

Nick sighed. "It was an accidental conversion, Elder Marcus. Frankly, it's a bit embarrassing, so I'd rather not discuss it further." Stokes was surprised. Nick was embarrassed of him? But then, he felt the bond between them thrum. Nick didn't really feel that way. He was trying to deflect Marcus.

Marcus leered at Nick. "Accidental, you say. Why Nicholas, I didn't know – what is the vernacular today – I didn't know you swung that way."

Nick scowled at the floor again, but Stokes was angry at the implication. "That's not what happened at all!" he exclaimed before he could stop himself. Lacroix and Nick both twisted around to glare at him. His eyes went wide and he clapped his hand over his mouth. _"Idiot!"_ came a voice in his head. He wasn't sure if it was his own thought or a projected one of Nick's or Lacroix'. It was probably all three.

Marcus smiled. Getting a rise out the fledgling had been too easy. He could tell the type straight off, no pun intended. Masculine to a fault, he'd suffer no implication otherwise. "Indeed? Well, enlighten me, child," he said to Stokes, gravely, feigning concern. He saw the fledgling swallow nervously. He had obviously been told to stay silent. "Well, speak up!" Marcus prodded.

Stokes felt like he might vomit. He'd royally screwed up. If he'd let the comment go, they could have been out of here by now, without having to divulge just how he'd come across. He could feel Lacroix' irritation, which was making him nervous, but from his own master, he got a nod of approval.

"It was a lab accident, Sir," Stokes almost whispered. His throat felt dry and scratchy. "I infected myself from a tissue sample that had been taken."

"Are you telling me your master allowed a tissue sample to be taken, fledgling?" Marcus demanded, gleefully. This was too rich. Everyone knew about Nicholas de Brabant and his mortal coroner. But as long as he stayed in Toronto and under Lacroix' supervision, no one could touch him.

"No! Of course not," Stokes quickly replied. "It was taken unbeknownst to him by a friend of mine. My boss, actually. I'm a CSI, sir, and my boss is extremely thorough. When my master came in to answer questions about the body he'd found, my boss collected hair samples from the chair afterwards, along with fingerprints from the table. It was from the hair samples that I was infected."

"How so? I've never heard of anything like it before. You'll find that the consequences for lying to me are severe," Marcus responded hotly.

Nick intervened. "He is not lying to you, Elder. That is how it happened. The boy cut himself on a prepared slide and brushed the attached tissue sample, which had been cultured. Unfortunately, my fledgling is one of those rare instances of conversion without draining. However, that did not negate my responsibility to him, so I am training the boy. He is moving with me back to Toronto as soon as this case is over."

Marcus smirked at Nick again. "Well, it is not as sordid as I had hoped, but it does raise some concerns. What was done with this tissue sample after your fledgling infected himself? I hope it does not remain in mortal hands."

"It does not remain with the person who took the samples," Nick replied evasively.

"Oh, and just whom, may I ask, has it now?" Marcus asked slyly.

"It is safe with a trusted friend of mine," Nick responded.

"Your coroner friend, Nicholas?" Marcus inquired, knowing the answer already. "She is mortal too, last I heard. It needs to be destroyed. I'll have to look into it."

"I will vouch for Ms. Lambert," Lacroix stated. "As an Elder, I am permitted to keep a few knowledgeable mortal pets about. She is one of those, and she is under my protection."

"Very well, Lacroix. Ms. Lambert may keep the samples. But the other mortal must be dealt with. I want him eliminated. You may as well do that too, while you are finishing off my nephew."

"As you wish Marcus," Lacroix replied. "He means nothing to me, and I had planned to do that anyway."

"Then please be on your way." The meeting was over. Lacroix, Nick, and Stokes turned to leave. "And Nicholas," Marcus called, "don't be a stranger!"

Nick clenched his fists by his sides and didn't look back. They strode purposefully out of the room, and then left the house.

"You were told to be silent, were you not?" Lacroix finally asked, when they were down the driveway.

"Yes, Master," Stokes said respectfully. He knew he was in it deep. Nick sent him a wave of reassurance and gave him a small smile when he looked over.

But Lacroix wasn't finished. "Stay out of this Nicholas," he said. "So why weren't you?"

Stokes opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to come up with an answer. Finally, he said, "Elder Marcus insinuated something that I have already been struggling with."

Lacroix halted, bringing the other two to a stop as well. He looked directly at Stokes before speaking. "As you are young and still confused about your nature, I will permit this indiscretion to go unpunished. However, if in the future you are given a direct command by either myself or Nicholas and disobey it for the sake of your pride, you will find that the consequences are most unpleasant." He started to walk again, leaving the younger men to follow him.

Stokes hung his head. He could accept that. He'd screwed up once, but he'd be damned if he'd do it again. Lacroix was right. He'd acted out of hurt pride and could have gotten them killed. It simply wasn't worth it.

The ride back to the hotel was long and silent. The playful, cheery mood was long gone, and Stokes felt slightly guilty about it. He was even more upset with himself because he knew the older vampires could sense it, though he sensed no overt blame or hostility from them. Finally, Nick spoke.

"We have to tell Grissom and Natalie what is going on," he said. "They have a right to know we are risking our lives, and they deserve to be kept in the loop, if for no other reason than medical attention, should it come to that."

Lacroix merely nodded and continued to brood out the window. He'd shut his mental link again, in order to gain some control over his thoughts.

"Mr. Grissom will have to forget this little episode," he mentioned again, then lapsed back into silence.

Finally, the cab arrived at their destination, and when all three men were safely back in Lacroix' room, the question on both of the younger vampires' minds was asked.

"What's the plan?" they spoke together, pausing for a moment to stare at each other before breaking out into grins. Lacroix rolled his eyes at them.

"Tonight," Lacroix stated firmly, "It must be tonight before LeMorte has a chance to smuggle this rogue away. Nicholas, you and I will be more than able to handle this ourselves. I believe young Nicholas will be more hindrance than help in this matter."

Stokes began to protest, but stopped before he'd said anything. He knew the ancient was not discounting or slighting him. He was truly too young to be of any help. Strong as he now was, the rogue could probably break him in two just as easily as he would do to any mortal. No, he'd stay out of this one. Maybe he could get to know Natalie better if Nick would allow him to stay with her. They could even invite Grissom, and have a nice long talk before his boss was made to forget everything. Besides, he could monitor the battle from a distance and let the doctors know if anything was seriously wrong. Not that he expected there would be. Nick and Lacroix were a formidable pair. When Stokes mentioned his plan to Nick, he wholeheartedly agreed.

"That, that is an excellent idea," Nick said. "You'll be out of harm's way and Nat won't worry too much if you tell her what's going on."

Lacroix agreed as well, but only under the condition that Stokes fed heavily first. "You are too young to be hungry around mortals. While you have done admirably, so far, in restraining yourself, it will be your first time without Nicholas present," he said. "We shall have to go back to the bar before we do anything. Besides, we may learn something useful about our quarry."

They departed again, but Lacroix had no intention of taking another car. Instead, he headed for the stairwell and Stokes' undead heart sank to his shoes. Lacroix intended for them to fly. He wondered who would be the one to give him the push over the edge. The nearer to the top the trio came, the more anxious Stokes felt. Beads of blood sweat began to break out on his forehead, but the ancient ignored him.

"Just relax," he heard Nick whisper, so low that he wondered if it had been a thought. "Nothing bad will happen to you. And once you trust yourself, you'll see that flying is the best experience you could ever have."

Stokes doubted this very much. He was actually feeling nauseous. "I'm terrified," he confessed. But Nick sent him a wave of reassurance, confidence, and pride. Stokes felt warm. His master was proud of him for doing so much so soon! He knew from earlier that his conversion and experience so far had been anything but normal. That Nick thought he was doing so well did encourage him. He took an unnecessary, deep steadying breath just as they reached the door to the roof. It was padlocked, but Lacroix motioned to him.

"Care to do the honors, young Nicholas?"

Stokes grinned as he ripped away the lock. Super enhanced strength was so much fun! Lacroix chuckled at the infant fledgling before leading them all onto the crunchy gravel of the roof.

"Are you ready?" Nick asked.

Stokes' stomach did a flip-flop in his guts, but he swallowed and nodded. "What do I do?" he asked.

"Let your body do what comes naturally. You know you can fly; so does your body. _Believe_ you can fly and you will. Concentrate your whole self on it. _Know_ you can do it, as if you'd already done it a million times before," Nick coached.

Stokes closed his eyes and raised his face to the moonlight. He'd spontaneously levitated before. How had he felt then? On cloud nine, he remembered, as Nick and Lacroix reconciled. He reached for the feeling in that memory and felt his toes leave the ground. Now, could he land safely? He cautiously tried to bring himself down, letting go of the euphoria. He dropped much faster than he meant to, but remained upright. When he opened his eyes, Nick was beaming at him. Even Lacroix seemed pleased.

"I did it," Stokes breathed. "I can fly."

"Well, come on then, Peter Pan," Nick teased him. "Let's go!"

Lacroix quickly lifted straight up into the night sky, his black clothing blending perfectly in the darkness. Nick, however, ran for the ledge and threw himself into space. Stokes heard him laugh as he flew past to join his master.

"Show off," he muttered, getting a mental smirk in return. Still cautiously, Stokes lifted off the roof. He judged that he was ten feet in the air before he dared to open his eyes. Then, he realized his mistake. The hotel was ten stories tall. Ten feet from the roof was more than 100 feet in the air. He began to fall, but Nick caught his hand.

"No time for that," he grinned. "Come on. This is easy! This is fun!" Still holding the fledgling's hand, Nick began to fly faster. Stokes couldn't break the grip, not that he wanted to, so he had to keep up. Concentrating hard, he managed to speed his flight. He felt himself tip forward. Now he was looking down over the city. Vegas was beautiful. It twinkled and shined like a magnified reflection of the sky above him. Abruptly, Stokes forgot his fear. This _was_ fun! Laughing, he found that Nick had let go of his hand. Just like when his mortal father taught him how to ride a bike, he never noticed when the supporting hand was gone. But by then, he was going under his own steam, and he was no longer afraid.

"On to Neverland!" he called, continuing the Peter Pan joke. It really was appropriate, he thought. He wouldn't ever get old. Nick laughed again, enjoying his fledgling's newfound confidence. He darted around the younger man as nimbly as a swallow. He could sense Lacroix' amusement too. It seemed that no matter how old any of them got, flying was one of the purest joys in life. It could turn an awful night into an amazing one.

"Shall we go and feed now?" the ancient called, before speeding ahead. "Last one to the club buys!" he called back over his shoulder.

"That's cheating, Lacroix!" Nick shouted, before quickening his own pace.

"No one set any rules, Nicholas! Besides, when have you known me to play by them?"

As his elders raced on ahead, just like two little boys, Stokes struggled to keep up. "Guess I'm buying this round," he said to himself morosely. As he neared the club, he wondered just where he should land. He knew it had to be away from people, but he wasn't that controlled on his descent yet. He didn't have to worry. Nick was hovering over a nearby alley waiting for him.

"I figured you could use a hand," he said, before clasping the younger man to him. As Nick guided them between the walls of the narrow alley, Stokes felt very safe. He was learning to trust his master more and more. And the thought of someone with that much power over him no longer bothered him at all. He knew Nick would never abuse it. So he relaxed into the arms around him and leaned his head back against the strong shoulder.

"Hmmm…" he sighed. "Thank you, master."

"Of course, my son," Nick replied, his chest tight with emotion. He truly did care for the boy. He knew now why Lacroix had obsessed over him and his safety. They landed softly on the ground, but Stokes made no move to get away, and Nick made no move to release him. Instead, he nibbled the child's throat with extended fangs, though he didn't break the skin. Stokes sighed and rolled his head away to provide more access. His own fangs were distended, but it wasn't out of hunger. It was pure and simple pleasure. Perhaps he was still riding a high from his first flight, but Stokes wondered why he'd ever felt uncomfortable about this. Nick slowed his gentle nips and inhaled the spicy scent of his son before releasing him. Nice as this was, it wasn't on the agenda for right now.

Stokes felt a tiny bit disappointed that no bite had come, but he knew as well that time was wasting. Every moment that went by was another in which the killer could escape. Still, he needed just one more thing. Turning slowly, he embraced his Father before stepping back to regain control of his features. He looked around the alley.

"Where is Lacroix?" he asked.

"Already inside," Nick replied. "He won the race of course. He always does."

The pair moved out of the alley, smiling at each other warmly. Their bond was humming as both sent and received simultaneously. Neither noticed the dark shape at the end of the alley. Without warning, Nick was struck with a powerful blow to the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground. With the link wide open as it was, Stokes fell too, black dots swimming before his eyes. He struggled to regain control of his limbs and make sure his eyes and fangs were concealed, since he was nearer to the street. Looking up with dazed eyes, Stokes saw the black shape pull on a pair of thick rubber gloves, before pulling out a thick rope.

"Don't even think about going anywhere," a harsh voice rasped. "You'll do exactly as I say, or I'll stake your master right here and now."

And icy finger of fear slid down into Stokes' stomach. This wasn't something that any of them had anticipated. Instead of fleeing or waiting for them the rogue had searched them out. The strange vampire uncoiled the rope he'd brought and immediately, Stokes was aware of the stench of garlic. With Nick down for the count, the young vampire was struggling to maintain consciousness. He hadn't realized just how vulnerable the link could make him. But he had to do something. He tried to concentrate on Lacroix, though he was much harder to sense because they had never shared blood. Nick was their connection, but he was out cold. Suddenly, the end of the rope was flicked at his face, breaking his concentration.

"Now, now. None of that. Can't have that old Roman bastard arriving too early, can we?"

"He'll kill you," Stokes said evenly, trying not to put out too much fear. "He'd kill you just for thinking about harming Nick. You won't be able to get away."

"Shut up, you pathetic excuse for a vampire," the killer growled. "You're going to make sure I get away, understand? Now, pick him up and follow me."

Stokes struggled just to stand. Once on his feet, he swayed dangerously. Picking Nick up was out of the question. But the older vampire hefted a large stake in his hand, preparing to plunge it directly into Nick's heart. Stokes' heart leaped and he summoned all of his new strength to the task. Grunting and heaving, he was able to pick Nick up and cradle him to his chest.

"Very good," the other said, sarcastically. "Now carry him over here to my car." He led Stokes to the mouth of another alley, where a late model sedan was parked illegally with the trunk lid already up. "Put him in," the cruel voice demanded.

Gently, Stokes laid his unconscious master inside the trunk, trying to get a good look at Nick's head as he did so. It looked like a large gash had opened in his scalp, just above the hairline in the back. It was bleeding sluggishly. Stokes' fangs itched from the smell. Not now! he told himself. He was roughly shoved away from the car and the trunk lid was slammed, obscuring his view and cutting off the wonderful honey wine scent. It helped to clear his head a little, but the perp wasn't done. He grabbed the younger vampire and began to wind the awful garlic soaked rope around his body. Nick yelped when a portion of it touched his hand, but DiMartino only pulled it tighter. He even managed to stuff a foul coil in the fledgling's mouth, causing him to gag and retch. Finally, he was shoved into the back seat of the car, whacking his temple in the process. He felt lightheaded again, as much from the garlic as the blow. Hastily, his kidnapper jumped behind the wheel and tore out of the alley. Stokes felt them gaining speed and knew they were on the highway, but anything else went unnoticed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Inside the bar, Lacroix had already ordered himself and his family their drinks. The flying lesson had been fun for the youngest member of his family, once the boy had gotten over his initial fear. The wonder and exhilaration were catching. He hadn't raced with Nicholas like that in centuries. But it might become a regular thing if his son always responded so enthusiastically. He wondered if a lack of spontaneity like that had helped to drive the wedge between them. There was no doubt that Nicholas wanted to love him, but felt it hard to do so. Perhaps his old ways were simply no longer acceptable. There was no reason he couldn't change them. After all, they certainly didn't work on his favorite child. A new approach, such as the occasional spark of gaiety and fun would be beneficial to all. He certainly didn't enjoy beating his son to a pulp, but it always seemed to happen that way when Lacroix insisted his child do one thing or another. It didn't mean that he wasn't still the boy's master if he chose to be more forgiving of his son's passions. And Nicholas had always been a most passionate creature. He smiled to himself when he abruptly felt that passion through their bond. Nicholas and his fledgling were possibly indulging in a bit of dessert before dinner. He unobtrusively shut the link to his son, allowing him the private moment.

The ancient was content for the moment. He sat back in the booth he had claimed for them and watched the younger beings dance. It was different when he wasn't the owner, and didn't have to be aware of any potential trouble brewing. Fifteen minutes later, Lacroix began to grow uneasy. Nicholas and his fledgling should be done with their tryst by now. Where were they? He opened his link to his son again, only to feel that the boy was very faint and moving farther away every moment. He sensed that the young one was with him, but that was small consolation. The boy was only three days old and weak as a kitten compared to any other vampire in town. Besides, with Nicholas out of commission, he was certain that the fledgling would be incapacitated as well. He threw a few bills on the table and left the bar, making a beeline for the alley where Nicholas had waited for his son. No one was there, but he did catch the faintest whiff of his son's unique scent, and the foul odor of garlic. Someone had harmed his child! He was instantly furious, and cast about with his mind for a general direction. He couldn't find one. Nicholas was unconscious somewhere. With a roar of rage, he sprang into the sky, his earlier elation at the feel of the wind on his face dampened by the dread he felt for his child.

Natalie and Grissom had talked a little more, before he had to report for his shift. It was a slow night, which he was thankful for. Natalie accompanied him to his office, but they spoke very little here. Finally, Grissom broke the silence.

"You really think I should tell them, don't you?" he asked.

"I really do. If only for Stokes' sake. I think he'd feel better about all of this, if he knew he wasn't the only one in the world who was an accident. I mean, really, it must be like your parents telling you they never planned on having children at all. Because Nick certainly wouldn't have brought anyone over by choice." Natalie shuddered at the thought of the last person Nick had brought across. Her younger brother Ritchie had not made the transition well, and Nick had been forced to kill him. She had been sad, but she didn't blame Nick for that. How could she when she was the one who had pushed for it in the first place. Nick had told her it wasn't a good idea, and she hadn't listened. In the end, the being that Nick had staked wasn't her "white knight" kid brother any more. It was a monster, pure and simple, who would have drained both her and his wife with no remorse.

"Natalie," Grissom said. "Are you alright? You looked a million miles away for a minute."

"I'm fine," she told him. "I was just remembering something from years ago, when I first met Nick."

"Care to share?"

"No, but thanks for your concern. It was over a long time ago, but it's still painful to talk about."

"I understand. I have a few case files like that."

Natalie nodded in sympathy. But before she could say anything else, they were interrupted by an enraged master vampire. Lacroix strode quickly into the room, eyes blazing. She wondered if he even knew, or cared about the exposure.

Grissom felt the ancient approaching this time, the icy finger down his back warned him predictably that trouble was brewing. He wasn't disappointed. In a few moments, the dark figure of Lucien Lacroix stormed into his office, eyes red as coals, and rage pulsing off of him. This was it. He was a dead man. The axe had come down and his neck was on the chopping block, literally. So he was surprised to hear Lacroix hiss his next statement.

"The rogue has kidnapped my son and his fledgling. Both of them are unconscious, and I cannot pinpoint a location from them. I require assistance from both of you."

Natalie knew what it had cost the ancient to utter those words, but she was concerned too. "How can we help?" she asked at once, jumping out of her chair.

"I require supplies and large vehicle," the master told her shortly. "I fear there is not much time to waste. The sun rises in just over five hours and this is a large city."

"What exactly has happened?" Grissom dared to ask.

Lacroix whirled to face the mortal, his face a study in parental concern, even though it was distorted by the fierce features. "As I said, someone kidnapped my son and young Nicholas. I found blood in an alley outside a bar downtown. We had stopped to feed before we went after this sloppy killer. I went inside first and left Nicholas to wait for his son. I sensed that they needed a private moment together, so I closed my link with them. It was during this time that they were struck." Lacroix' face now twisted with guilt along with the concern and rage. "When will I learn?" he berated himself. "That boy is a trouble magnet. He shouldn't be left alone for a moment."

"Lacroix," Natalie said, "this is not your fault. Just finish telling us what happened."

"That is it. I became concerned when Nicholas did not enter the bar in a reasonable amount of time, so I reopened our bond. I discovered that he was unconscious and moving farther away, though I could not get a fix on his location. It was the same for Stokes."

"Okay," Natalie said, taking charge, "if Nick's unconscious, and Stokes too, then that means they are injured. They'll need fresh blood and lots of it. They may require medical assistance." She turned to Grissom. "Gil, I need about a gallon of saline solution and two gallons of whole human blood, plus a standard first aid kit."

Grissom jumped to his feet. "Of course. There's blood and saline stored in the morgue, but I don't know how we'll get by Al. He'll never authorize that much blood to be taken with no reason."

"I will see to that," Lacroix stated. He'd calmed considerably, once a plan started to come together.

"Right," Grissom said. "You can hypnotize him. Meanwhile, I'll get my SUV. The cargo space is plenty big enough for two grown men, if need be, and the windows are heavily tinted. I can get some blankets from the morgue as well, if necessary."

Lacroix nodded. He and Natalie hurried to the morgue while Grissom brought around his truck. The coroner proved to be no problem and handed over all the needed supplies without question. As the pair exited the building, Grissom pulled up in front of them in his black SUV. Lacroix climbed into the front seat and Natalie threw herself in through the side door. The vehicle's tires squealed as they left the parking lot.

In the kidnapper's car, Stokes was starting to revive a little. The garlic was stinging him and making him feel very sick, but he was definitely awake. He tried to sense how Nick was doing, but his head was throbbing. He wasn't sure if that was how his master was feeling or his own head, so he stopped trying. He could sense that Nick was still alive in the trunk. Of course, it would take more than just a solid blow to the head to kill a vampire, but still, that was a nasty gash, and the location was a critical area of the brain. Nick had told him that he'd been shot in the head before and it had taken time for his grey matter to heal. If that was the case now, Stokes might well be on his own. It wasn't a comforting thought. He didn't like to dwell on it. He tried instead to contact Lacroix. The ancient master was their only hope. Out of the blue, Stokes wished he had shared blood with the Roman, although he'd never considered sharing with anyone but Nick before now.

Cautiously, he found the corner of his mind where the faint bond with Nick's master lay. It was much harder to sense than the link with his father, but he had to try. _Lacroix_ he thought _here we are. We need you. We're in a car. We're hurting. Please hurry._ Stokes imagined an invisible wave reaching out to his grandfather, like a sonar ping. He concentrated on the image, trying to focus past the hurt in his arms and head. _Ping, ping, ping_ he thought.

"Turn around!" Lacroix shouted, startling Grissom. "Turn around! I felt something, It was faint; my grandson, I think. He is trying to reach me." Lacroix laughed in relief. "He is sending out pings."

Grissom reached a spot where he could execute a U-turn, even though it was illegal. It didn't matter. The only thing that did was finding his family. He was startled by this abrupt change of thinking in himself. But, he'd thought of Stokes as family for some time now. This new revelation only strengthened that feeling. He decided that he would tell Lacroix and both Nicks about the anomaly he'd found right after the crisis was over. He'd been alone for too long anyway. His only family had been his mother for a long time, despite the time he'd passed with Sara. He loved her, but he didn't think she returned it the same way.

"Which way now?" he asked, picking up on Lacroix' excitement.

Lacroix closed his eyes and concentrated on the scant information he was receiving. "South. Into the suburbs, I believe."

Grissom nodded and confidently turned south on the highway. It didn't matter that his directions were coming from some unbelievable sixth sense the man beside him seemed to possess. After all, didn't he have the same sense? It may not be as strong, but he could almost believe he felt the pings too. Feeling foolish, he tried to broadcast his thoughts. _Don't worry Nick. We're coming to get you._

Nick Stokes had never been more miserable in his whole life. The car ride had finally ended when his assailant pulled up in front of a deserted, broken down old house on a deserted street. He'd been roughly hauled out of the car, banging his head yet again, and wanting to retch from the taste of garlic in his mouth. And the rope chafed and stung him every time he moved. His captor seemed to take great delight in hauling him around by it, so it dug into his skin and burned more fiercely. He'd been thrown into a bare room, which had visibly been modified to keep vampires captive. The walls and floor were poured concrete and he could hear liquid sloshing in the ceiling. No doubt it was more garlic oil, which would spill on them if any attempt was made to go through that way. At least there were no windows, so the sun wouldn't be a problem. And then Nick was thrown in the cell with him. He'd never gone from absolute despair to joy so fast in his life.

But then he realized that the situation was really not improved. Nick was still unconscious, although he should have awakened by now. Stokes was very concerned for his master, but with the gag still in his mouth, he could do nothing, save sit and wait. He didn't even want to touch the other man, for fear of spreading the garlic around. He hoped his message had gotten through to Lacroix.

This neighborhood was just right for a vampire, Natalie decided, as they drove on through the murky darkness. Most of the street lights were out, and many of the houses were run down, if not abandoned all together. They'd driven an hour to get here, which left them a little over four to find the guys and get back to the hotel before dawn. She prayed that was enough time. Finally, Lacroix indicated that they should stop. Grissom rolled up smoothly in front of yet another run down house, no different from any other on the block.

"They are here," he said shortly. "Stay in the car. I will deal with this scum." Then he was gone. The only thing that had betrayed his departure was the quick motion of the door opening and shutting.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" Grissom asked.

"You heard the man," Natalie said. "Sit and wait. I've learned that it's safest when dealing with immortal threats."

"Oh, but you're so wrong," an unfamiliar voice said, right outside her window, just before it exploded inwards. Bits of safety glass went everywhere and the vampire pulled his arm out of the car. He calmly unlocked the door and climbed inside. "Scream and I'll kill you both slowly," he threatened.

Grissom had no doubt he meant business. But he couldn't let him harm Natalie. The cross and stake were still in his pockets. He wondered if he had the courage to try and use them. Slowly, he brought his hands down and pushed them into his pockets. The reassuring weight of the items within gave him new courage. Grasping the cross, he drew it out, but out of view of the unwelcome vampire guest, who was still talking.

"That old bastard can't leave well enough alone, or his do-gooder son either. It's not right that we must hide as we do. We're superior beings in every way. We could rule and no one would dare stand against us. What difference does one body make anyway? The cops find dozens every night." He eyed Natalie with a leer. "They're going to find two more tomorrow, you know. And several unidentifiable piles of ash, after I rid myself of three pains in the neck."

Natalie was terrified. The wild vampire was leaning closer and closer and she'd run out of room to lean away. So she closed her eyes and waited for the end to come. It never did. Instead, the vampire roared and lunged over her toward the front seat. Grissom had darted out the door and the vampire had followed him. It was a bold move, but very stupid. He was just a mortal and he had no weapons. Quickly, she climbed out of the car herself, not that she was going to be much help in a fight either. But the vampire wasn't attacking. For some reason, he was keeping his distance. Then Natalie saw the large crucifix in Grissom's hand. Where had he gotten that? The vampire roared at him and Grissom seemed to falter. He lowered the cross just a bit, but it was enough to let the vampire by.

"No!" Natalie shouted, distracting him from the attack. But she hadn't distracted Grissom. From his pocket, he pulled a wooden stake and drove it into his attacker's chest. The vampire stopped and looked horrified, and then he screeched a blood-curdling scream and faded away into ash. Grissom must have perfectly pierced his heart.

All the adrenaline that had kept him from falling over abruptly left Grissom's body. He fell to his knees and retched, then curled on his side, shaking. Natalie ran to him, fearful that he was hurt. But it seemed to be shock. That she could deal with. She ran back to the truck to retrieve the blankets intended to cover the windows and managed to get him to stand. His face was ashen. She opened the rear hatch of the vehicle and sat the shivering man inside, where she promptly wrapped him in blankets. Then she hugged him. He didn't make any response. Instead he closed his eyes and slept.

Lacroix flew around the house, looking for the best way in. He could definitely sense his son now, close by, though still unconscious. The front door seemed to be the only access point in the whole building. The rest were bricked and cemented closed. Cautiously, he entered, fully expecting to be attacked. When nothing came, he moved on, but still wary of dark corners and doors. Finally, he came to a solid steel door. There was only one reason for a door like that in this house. His family was behind it, and he fully intended to get them out. He inspected the door closely for any hidden mechanisms or traps, but there appeared to be none. So he ripped the entire thing from its hinges and flung it across the room.

Stokes saw the door come away from the wall and started to move around. "Mmmph, mmmmph!" he choked, before resorting to the link. _You're here!_ was all he could think, before he passed out again.

Lacroix surveyed the room. There still didn't seem to be any traps. The killer was foolishly overconfident. Nothing stood between him and his family. The younger Nicholas was sitting upright, bound and gagged with a rope. He managed a few weak groans before passing out. But his Nicholas was on the floor, his head oozing blood. Crossing quickly to him, Lacroix cradled his son before tasting the blood flowing from his wound. Curare! The killer had poisoned his son as well. But Nicholas would get over it. There would be no lasting damage. He left his son for the moment to see to the other member of his family.

The younger vampire's bonds were really quite nasty. He reeked of garlic and even in the dim light, Lacroix could see the chafe marks on the tender skin of his face and hands. He was loathe to touch the stuff himself, but it couldn't be helped. As quickly as he could, he broke the rope in several different places. Then he heard the roar of rage. The killer was outside with the mortals. He raced back through the house, only to find that the battle was over. Natalie and Grissom sat in the back of the SUV, wrapped in blankets.

"Grissom killed him," Natalie said as he approached. "He had a cross and a stake in his pockets. It was a lucky thing."

Lacroix raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Will he be all right?"

"He'll be fine for now. He's in shock, but he's stable. Where are the boys? Are they okay?"

Lacroix smiled at her description of his family. "They too will be fine. Young Nicholas has some severe garlic infected abrasions and my Nicholas has been dosed with curare. He also has a scalp wound. Perhaps you could see to them?"

Natalie nodded and hopped out of the truck. Lacroix led her back through the house to the cell. "It's too dark for me in here," she said. "I need them outside, at least."

Quicker than she could blink Lacroix and Nick were gone, and then he returned for Stokes. She made her way back through the dark house and found him waiting for her behind the vehicle. He'd stretched out the two men side by side and Stokes was showing signs of stirring. Natalie wisely kept her distance. A few moments later, he sprang up, looking scraped and bloody, but with glowing eyes and long fangs.

"Calm yourself, child," Lacroix intoned. "You are safe. Your attacker is dead."

Stokes' face cleared and returned to normal. "Boy does my head hurt," he said. "That guy was none too gentle. Thank you, Lacroix for rescuing us."

"It was a group effort, young one. You did your part as well. I would never have found you without your persistence."

Stokes ducked his head, but winced at the movement. He'd brushed one of his scrapes against his clothes.

Natalie finally felt confident enough to move closer. "Nick," she said, feeling awkward. The Nick she normally treated was unconscious. "Those abrasions look nasty. I know how to wash them out. Will you let me? Then you can eat something."

Stokes smiled at her, sans fangs. "I'd love for you to do that," he said gratefully. "You have no idea how badly this stings."

"Like a thousand scorpions all at once," she promptly answered, while she reached for the saline solution.

"Uh, yeah. I guess you do know," Stokes said.

She laughed. "Nick was shot with a garlic filled bullet once. He told me that was how he felt. Now, I need you to hold still."

Stokes froze as Natalie neared him with a squeeze bottle full of sterile salt water. As she gently began to clean the wound, Stokes hissed softly. Natalie quickly backed away, unsure about the meaning. She knew she didn't want to be around an out of control fledgling.

"Sorry," Stokes apologized. "It didn't hurt. It actually felt good. I won't hurt you. I promise."

Natalie nodded and went back to work. When she was done with the saline, she poured a small amount of blood on a rag and handed Stokes the rest of the package. He gave her a confused look, before drinking the bag down.

"It's to put on the wounds," Natalie explained, as she swabbed every abrasion she'd just cleaned. "I think of it as an antiseptic. But it does help the healing process. I learned that with Nick ages ago."

And she was right. Between the saline and the blood, plus what he'd just drunk, Stokes' wounds were healing very nicely. He was still grateful though, when she handed him another bag of blood. Then she leaned over his master.

"What happened to him," Stokes asked Lacroix.

"The killer dosed him with curare," Lacroix explained. "It is one of the few poisons that work on us, though it only acts as a paralytic. It's not really harmful, just annoying. Nicholas will wake feeling as though he had too much alcohol."

"How can he heal then?" Stokes asked. "He can't drink anything like this." Just then, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He turned back to Nick, to see that Natalie had put a long needle in his master's belly. Stokes' eyes were wide, and Natalie looked just as surprised. She'd seen him double over and gasp.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Was there something else you needed me to look at? Don't be shy. I am a doctor you know."

"No," Stokes said, through clenched teeth. "But that hurts."

"I'm sorry, what hurts?" Natalie was puzzled.

"The needle! The needle hurts."

"What needle? Did the killer give you a shot too?"

"No! The needle in Nick's stomach!" Stokes was becoming more and more agitated. Finally Lacroix stepped in. He put his arms around Stokes to prevent him flying at the mortal.

"Ms. Lambert, I suggest you remove the needle from Nicholas' stomach at once, before his fledgling does something unfortunate. It seems that when Nicholas was paralyzed, the bond was frozen open as well. Only he can close it. The young one can feel everything you do to his master," Lacroix explained.

Natalie was mortified. "I'm so sorry," she said, as she drew out the long piece of metal. Stokes hissed once more when it was finally out, but it was again a hiss of relief.

"S'okay," he breathed. "Maybe, you should just give him an IV instead. I could deal with that."

"Are you sure?" Natalie and Lacroix asked at the same time. Stokes would have laughed, but it didn't seem the time.

"Yeah, the arm is fine, really." Lacroix finally released him and Stokes breathed a sigh of relief. Now that his belly was full and he no longer hurt, he was beginning to be very sleepy. As Natalie fed his master intravenously, Stokes curled up beside him and fell asleep. Lacroix smiled at the young one indulgently, a rare expression on the patrician face. Natalie noticed right away.

"You really like him, don't you?" she asked softly.

Lacroix looked at her sideways, considering how he should answer. This mortal was one of the most annoying creatures in his life, when it came to Nicholas, but he had to admit that she cared. He decided on the truth.

"I do indeed," he answered. "He is good for Nicholas and for myself. His youthfulness is refreshing. It has been a long time since I or any of my children has truly brought anyone into the family."

Natalie nodded. "I understand. Children are a blessing, be they created or born." She hesitated, and then continued. "But you have another family member here as well. I trust you won't tell him I told you, but Grissom is related to you as well. That's how he can sense you."

"You are certain of this?" Lacroix asked.

"Yes. I did the test myself. He found some of the virus in one of his white blood cells. I took a look and the royal gem is there, just like you and Nick."

Lacroix nodded. He was aware of the research she was doing and had even volunteered a small sample of his own blood. He also knew that Nicholas had told her of his vampire heritage. It was no secret in the community. Nearly everyone knew that Lacroix' family was to be respected as heirs to the First.

"I don't think he plans to tell you," Natalie continued. "He's very confused. As a fellow scientist, I don't blame him. It was hard for me when I first met Nick to accept the truth. Grissom is no different, but now he knows he's part of it too. It scares him."

Again, Lacroix nodded. "I shall not mention it," he told her. "But thank you for telling me. It affects how I will deal with the situation."

"I thought as much, and I told Grissom that," she said.

Lacroix looked away from her, toward the east. "We should leave," he said. "Dawn comes soon, and I would rather be inside already when it arrives."

The ride back was uneventful. Lacroix had put Grissom into the back seat, so that Nicholas and his fledgling could stretch out in the cargo area. Natalie replaced the IV bag before they drove away and checked the head wound. It was nearly closed and Nick was already looking better. As she watched, he took a deep breath and she knew that his heart would have beat at the same moment. Most of the curare was already broken down. Nick was now merely sleeping. It was a good sign, but she was still slightly sad. To heal so quickly meant that all his steps toward mortality were erased. He was fully a vampire again.

She had to drive more slowly to avoid jostling the men in the back on the return trip. They arrived at the hotel with about an hour and a half to spare. Lacroix was pleased. He directed Natalie to park behind the hotel. He would fly the three men to the roof one at a time and bring them down instead of going through the lobby. Natalie agreed. Lacroix took Nick first, and then came back for Stokes. While he was gone, Grissom woke.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We're behind the hotel," she answered. "Lacroix took the other guys to the roof to bring them in that way. He felt it would raise less suspicion than bringing in three banged up, sleeping men through the lobby, especially since no cameras had seen them leave."

Grissom nodded. He felt the tingle in his back that alerted him to a vampire's presence and turned. Lacroix landed lightly outside the vehicle.

"You are awake," he stated. "Are you able to come inside under your own power?"

"Yes," Grissom answered shortly.

"We'll come up through the elevator," Natalie elaborated. "You should go back in through the roof. Like you said, no cameras saw you leave. Better if none see you come back."

Without another word, Lacroix departed as silently as he had landed. Natalie sighed. It looked like Lacroix was himself again, now that his family was out of harm's way. She drove back around the hotel and parked in the front lot, so Grissom wouldn't have to walk as far. He was very grateful, since his legs still felt a bit unsteady. In the elevator, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

"I'm going to tell them," he whispered. Natalie was startled, but she didn't say anything. Grissom continued. "It hit me while we were driving to rescue Nick and Detective Knight. I was following the lead of a being who claimed to have psychic knowledge of where his son and my friend were. Then I realized Nick was already family to me even before this mess. I can't abandon him now. And if that means accepting some hard truths, well, that's just nothing compared to what he has to deal with."

"I'm glad that's what you decided," Natalie said. "Nick needs his friends now, especially you, since you know what's happened. But maybe it can wait until tomorrow night?"

Grissom laughed tiredly. "Yeah, tomorrow."

At the fifth floor, the elevator stopped and they got out. Natalie led the way to her room. Grissom could take Nick's bed for the day. She was sure he wouldn't be using it. If she knew Lacroix at all, he wouldn't let Nick out of his sight for ages to come. And after this debacle, she didn't really blame him. Nick really was a trouble magnet. Grissom fell onto the bed, thoroughly exhausted and fully clothed. Natalie smiled. She'd seen Nick do the same on numerous occasions. She pulled off his shoes, and let him be.

In Lacroix' room, the arrangement was much the same as the night before. All three men shared the bed, with Nick in the middle. Once again, they all slept soundly and didn't wake until it was dark. This time, it was Nick who woke first, with a start. He didn't know where he was and he had a major headache. The sudden movement to sit up hadn't helped it any. Then he sensed the two vampires beside him. His fledgling and his father. Stokes was still sleeping, but Lacroix was awake. It was very dark in the room already, but he still shut his eyes tightly to avoid any stray photons that might aggravate his eyeballs. He flopped back on the pillow. Lacroix gently brushed his face. Nick turned into his hand, grateful that his father had rescued him yet again.

"Are you well, my son?"

"My head hurts father," Nick answered. "I think the killer gave me curare."

"He did indeed. You were lucky that your fledgling had the presence of mind to try to contact me via our link. Otherwise, he might have done something more permanent."

"How is he?"

"Little worse for wear," Lacroix said. "The killer wrapped him in a garlic soaked rope, but little else. Natalie took care of him last night and he has healed well."

"And the rogue?"

"Dead, my son. Killed by Mr. Grissom, if you can believe it. Apparently, he walks around with a cross and stake in his pocket."

Nick laughed. "One of the lab techs tried to give those to me and Nicky. You should have seen the poor boy's face. Grissom was kind enough to relieve us of them. He must have left them in his pockets just in case. I wonder how he's holding up. He had serious issues with just killing the rogue without due process."

"I believe he got over that," Lacroix stated, drolly. "Especially after the killer threatened him and Ms. Lambert with slow, painful deaths, should they resist."

Nick said nothing. His head was starting to pound. He remembered waking up this way as a mortal, after a long night of drinking and partying.

Gently, Lacroix rolled half on top of his son. He bent his head to whisper in his child's ear. "Nicholas," he said softly, "drink from me. You will feel the better for it."

Nick sighed happily and accepted the invitation. He licked the ancient's neck once before striking. Once again, he tasted the blood he always craved. But this time, Lacroix bit him back. It was perfect. He was complete.

Nick Stokes woke from a sound sleep, unable to identify what had awakened him. But his fangs were already fully extended. Then he realized what it was. Nick and Lacroix were feeding from each other. He shuddered pleasantly as the feelings washed over him. They were nearly as intense as when he and Nick fed from each other. Finally, it seemed they were aware of him. But there was no embarrassment on anyone's part. This was just what they were.

"Feeling better, Nick?" Stokes asked lightly.

Nick grinned. "Much. I hear I have you to thank for our rescue. Very impressive."

Stokes blushed a vampire's almost nonexistent blush at the praise. "Nothing to it," he muttered. "Just did what anyone would have done. I yelled for help. I'm just glad someone could hear me yelling."

"No," Nick said, "you yelled for help through a very weak bond, and through the pain of garlic, while I was unconscious in the trunk. You saved our lives. Not many as young as you could have even stayed awake, much less kept a clear enough head. I'm very proud of you."

"I was so scared for you," Stokes said, turning to curl up beside his master. "Please try not to get hurt anymore."

"I concur," Lacroix said. "I too wish you would be more careful Nicholas. We are strong, but we are not invincible. I was very worried for you as well."

Nick sighed. "I'll try," he said, "for both of you. But I can't promise never to get hurt, or to stay out of all trouble. I am a police officer, after all. But I'll do my best. I don't want to lose you, either."

"That is all I have ever asked, Nicholas," Lacroix replied. "Think before you act. I know you let yourself get carried away by your emotions, but a bit of thought and prudence never hurt anyone. And it keeps your family from worrying quite so much."

There was a time, just recently, that Nick would have taken offense to his master's last statement, but now he knew it for what it was. Lacroix cared for him and didn't want to see him hurt, which was why the ancient objected to his search for mortality. It wasn't really about possessing Nick, as much as it was about keeping him from harm. He thought back to the lidovuterine experiment that he and Natalie had done years ago. He should have seen then that Lacroix only wanted what was best for him. He'd tried to tell Nick, but he hadn't listened. And he _had_ been in pain, then. The drug was toxic. He knew that, but he wasn't ready to admit that it wasn't a cure, that it wasn't his way out. The only thing that he'd been able to see was that he could stand in the sun. He'd ignored the fact that his body hurt just as much from the drug as from any pain the sun might have normally caused. Lacroix had attempted to show him that too, when he stepped into the light, proving that he would go to any lengths for his child. And Nick had thrown it in his face. He was sorry a million times over for that.

Lacroix picked up on his son's thoughts. "That was years ago, Nicholas. Much has changed since then. I know you regret that day. I don't blame you for it. I only wanted to keep you safe."

"I'm sorry, Father," Nick whispered, a tear welling up in his eye, but he blinked it back. "I'm sorry for everything."

"I forgive you Nicholas. It is all in the past now. And I admit that I was partly to blame as well. But it is the present we should concentrate on now, and how we can avoid making the same mistakes." He hugged his son to his body, then released him.

Stokes felt somewhat lost, but whatever had just happened was very positive. He felt a weight slip off his master's mind that he hadn't noticed was there until it was gone. Then, the moment was over. Nick was scooting off the bed and Lacroix got up as well. He stretched and then followed suit.

"Do you think Natalie and Grissom are awake yet?" he asked, through a yawn.

"It's nearly eight o'clock," Nick replied. "They should be."

Right on cue, a soft knock sounded on their door. Stokes looked through the peep hole. It was Grissom and Natalie.

"Speak of the devil," he said, before he opened the door.

"Good evening, guys," Natalie said as she entered. "How are you feeling tonight? Any left over aches and pains?"

"Hi Nat," Nick said, giving her a hug. "Not a one. We're all healed up, thanks to you, I'm told."

Natalie blushed, much the same as Stokes had done earlier. "Just doing my job," she said lightly, before deflecting the conversation off of herself. "But Grissom should get the real thanks. He's the one who staked the killer."

Grissom felt all eyes turn to him and looked at the floor. He still didn't know how he felt about that. He'd undermined the justice system the same way he'd scolded Nick for condoning earlier. He felt like a hypocrite. But in the moment, he'd done what he had to do to protect himself and Natalie. Perhaps he was wrong to think that vampires needed mortal justice after all. He just couldn't see cops dealing with what he'd done every night.

Natalie finally took pity on him. "So, what's going on tonight?" she asked. "We caught the killer, so there's no case anymore, and this is a vacation, so…"

"I, for one, am booking off sick," Grissom said. "I'm going home and turning off my cell phone, and staying there with the windows and doors locked."

Stokes laughed at him. "Come on, man, it's not that bad, is it? Just because your whole view of reality changed is no reason to go into hiding."

"I suppose you're right Nick. Maybe I won't hide in my house forever. After all, who would look after you when you move to Canada?"

"What?" Stokes asked, confused. "Are you moving too? Why would you do that?"

Grissom sighed. This was it. "Because you're my family, Nick, and family sticks together."

"Grissom, I don't understand. You're one of my best friends, but… family?"

"Actually, yes. See, I can sense you guys. Turns out, I've got a little of the virus in my blood as well. Apparently, it's been there all my life. I just didn't know about it. But Natalie took a look and she says that mine and yours are from the same family. So, we're distantly related, in…in vampire terms, anyway. But I've thought of you as a brother for a long time now. And besides, I've got this great job offer." He turned to Natalie. "If it's still open, that is. I'd love to help you with your research."

"Of course," Natalie said, delighted that Grissom had told the vampires his secret and that she would finally be getting help. "We have an opening in forensics, on the graveyard. It's not the best shift, but…"

"The graveyard is great," Grissom interrupted. "I'll get to work with my family, not to mention, one very special medical examiner, who I'm told is a doctor to the undead."

Natalie smiled. She really liked Grissom. Maybe there was something there to explore. After all, she was mortal and Nick wouldn't be any time soon, if ever. She deserved a little happiness. And who better to share it with than with someone who already knew her?

_One week later_

The party was winding down. All of the cake had been eaten and there was only a dribble of punch left in the bowl. It was a farewell party for Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes, two of Las Vegas' most respected forensic investigators. Nearly the entire police force and all of the CSI crew had shown up to wish them well. Nick, Schanke, and Nat had attended too. Captain Reese had been kind enough to extend their vacations, since they'd been working during their scheduled time off. It had been a long night, especially for Nick Stokes, who was still unused to people suddenly handing him food, which he could no longer eat.

"Whew," he said, as he flopped down next to his master. "I gave serious thought to showing my fangs to the next person who handed me a slice of cake, just to see their reaction."

Nick chuckled. "You never quite get used to that," he said. "And there's food at every function. At least cake doesn't smell too bad. Just wait until someone brings in lasagna or spaghetti. Then you have to deal with garlic too."

Stokes wrinkled his nose. "No thanks. I've had enough garlic for eternity already. Sometimes I think I can still taste that nasty rope in my mouth."

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, watching the mortals scurry around the office, cleaning up the last remaining bits of party that littered the room. Someone was taking down the "Good Luck" sign, while others were emptying the tables into the trash cans.

"I'm amazed that you arranged this all so fast," Stokes said after a bit. "There were no snags in the paperwork anywhere. Usually, there's a lot more hassle when transfers are going on, never mind two at the same time."

"That's what centuries of practice will do for you," Nick replied. "Aristotle knows his business. He's the best in the world. And Lacroix helped to grease the wheels as well. He hypnotized most of the staff here and in Toronto to think that this was a long time coming. Everyone is convinced that you started the transfer months ago. He did the same for Grissom."

"I'm still kind of numb over his news," Stokes admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that we're somehow related, but it is a bit strange. How does Nat know this, anyway?"

Nick sighed. "She identified a certain marker present on the virus in his blood, which is identical to our family's. She calls it the royal gem."

Stokes laughed. "The royal gem? That's creative. Did she come up with that?"

"Yep. And she's actually right. We are kind of royalty among our kind. Heirs to the First. Lacroix is only two generations removed from him."

"Seriously?" Stokes asked, a blank expression on his face. He hadn't been expecting that. Being a vampire was challenging enough. Now he was a prince of some sort too?

"Seriously. He never let me forget it while I was a fledgling." Nick rolled his eyes. "I don't see what all the fuss is about, really. We're not some different breed, after all."

Stokes shook his head slightly, but didn't say anything else. He'd have to think about that bit of information some other time. It was just too much for him to process right now. Soon, it was time for them to go home. They were staying at the hotel, since Stokes had already sent most of his things to Toronto and had put up a "For Sale" sign in his yard. He gave the precinct one last look before departing. Natalie had gone back to her room hours ago, so they were free to fly. As they took to the air, Stokes wondered again why he had fought this, why he had resisted any of his conversion. There was nothing to limit him now. He could do whatever he wanted. He had the time.

"Hey Nick," he called, "I'll race you!"

In answer, Nick shot away, like an arrow from a bow. Stokes was close behind. He didn't care if he won or not. The feel of the wind all around him was enough. As he soared high above one of the brightest cities in the world – his city – he laughed, completely at peace.

**Epilogue**

The twins, Richard and Daniel, sat on the floor, happily playing with their toy trucks. Their mother and father were close by, watching the news. Suddenly, as one, the boys looked up at the door expectantly.

"What is it?" their mother asked.

"Someone's here," the father said.

The boys continued to stare at the door, completely focused, waiting for something to happen.

"Little pigs, little pigs, let us in," a voice outside called.

"Uncle Nick! Uncle Nicky!" they chorused, before jumping up to fling open the door. On the steps stood two vampires, who promptly scooped up the boys before heading inside. The boys' parents stood and smiled warmly.

"Hello Gil, hi Nat," Nick said cheerfully, while being strangled by the six-year-old in his arms.

"You could have called," Nat scolded, before embracing him. "It's good to see you both. How's the new life treating you?"

The younger vampire smiled and answered for them both. "We've settled in nicely, Nat. It's fun to be back at college again, even if I am a teacher this time."

When the time had come several years ago to move on, Nick and Stokes had gone back to the States, adopting the personas of college professors. Nick Hunter, formerly Nick Knight, taught Medieval Studies and no one ever skipped _his_ lectures. All of his students agreed that Professor Hunter's lessons were so interesting that it seemed like he'd actually lived through the Middle Ages. And the girls thought he was a hunk to boot. Nick Shepherd, formerly Nick Stokes, taught advanced forensics, and while his lectures weren't quite so packed, he too got a lot of attention from the young ladies on campus.

The two vampires had asked Aristotle to set up their identities as cousins in this life, so it wouldn't look too suspicious or awkward that two new professors had the same skin disease and shared an apartment. Even after a decade, Stokes still needed to be near his master.

"Have you heard anything from Lacroix lately," Gil asked.

"He's doing just fine," Nick laughed. When Lacroix had moved on as well, he'd become a psychiatrist, who specialized in families with problem children. Nick had laughed long and hard about that when he'd first found out.

_"Well, I __**do**__ have experience in that area, thanks to you, Nicholas,"_ he'd said. _"It is time I put it to good use."_

"The last I heard, he was doing some really good work with a family in Montreal, whose daughter kept running away. He's enjoying himself immensely. Amazing, really. I never would have guessed it was in him."

Nat agreed, but before she could say anything, Richard and Daniel interrupted. They were bored with the grown-up talk.

"Uncle Nick, Uncle Nicky, come see our fort," Richy insisted, tugging Stokes by the hand toward the back door.

"Yeah!" Danny agreed, from where he was clinging to Nick's back. "You can see the moat and cannons and flag and everything!"

"I don't know, boys," Gil interrupted. "It's getting pretty late. It will be time for bed very soon."

"But it's _always_ late when Uncle Nick and Uncle Nicky show up," Richy protested. "We always have to go to bed as soon as they get here."

"Well, I suppose you can stay up a little longer then," their father agreed. "But only a half hour. Then it's a story and bed!" he shouted at the retreating backs of his sons, who were whooping and cheering, and dragging the vampires along in their wakes. He moved to sit next to his wife on the couch.

"Seems like yesterday, doesn't it?" he asked.

"What's that?" she responded.

"The case in Vegas," he said. "I can't believe it's been almost ten years."

Natalie snuggled closer to her husband. "Me neither. It has gone by fast." She plucked at a grey hair which had escaped her scrunchy sighed. "Too bad none of our research panned out," she said. "Otherwise I would have far fewer of these to show for it."

Gil kissed the top of her head. "I like them," he told her. They sat companionably for a few minutes before the boys trooped back in with the vampires.

"Uncle Nick is going to tell us a story," Danny said, as he ran by. "We told him we wanted a really scary one, but he said he had a good one that was only kind of scary."

Natalie grabbed Nick's hand as he walked by. "Thanks Nick," she said a bit emotionally.

"It's just a story, Nat," he replied.

"Not just for that. Thank you for all of this." She spread her hands to encompass the whole house. "If I hadn't known you I wouldn't have any of this."

Nick brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. "Nonsense," he said. "Of course you would, Nat. You're too good a woman not to have this." He turned to Gil. "And I expect her to be treated like a queen."

Gil smiled. "It's been eight years, Nick," he said. "I already know she's a queen among women. You'll get no argument from me about how she should be treated. She is one special lady."

Natalie blushed when both men smiled at her.

"Uncle Nick!" the twins shouted. "We're ready for our story!"

Nick kissed Natalie's hand once more. "Duty calls," he quipped, going to the boys' room. He chuckled to see his fledgling sitting on a twin bed, sandwiched by the two boys, both of whom were in Batman pajamas. "Scoot over," he commanded, and then joined them. "What are we doing again?" he asked innocently.

"A story!" the boys exclaimed.

"Oh that's right. You boys wanted a scary story." Nick pretended to think very hard. "Let's see, are vampires scary enough?"

"Yay!" the twins cheered.

The younger vampire smiled. "I think I know what story this is," he said, reading his master's thoughts.

Nick smiled too and started speaking. "Once upon a time, there was a vampire named Nick," he began.

"That's just like you guys," Richy said quietly, already spellbound. "Except you're not vampires. You're not scary enough."

Nick shook his head and continued, while his fledgling started to cough so he could cover his laughter. "Nick needed a vacation. See, he was a police detective, and he helped people all the time. So he went to Las Vegas with his partner, Detective Schanke."

The boys giggled. "Daddy is from Las Vegas," Danny said. "Maybe he met Nick." Stokes was trying so hard not to laugh now, that he snorted. The boys giggled again.

"Am I going to be able to finish?" Nick asked lightly.

"Sorry Uncle Nick," the boys said. There were no more interruptions as Nick wove the story, editing it a bit for small ears. When he was done, the boys were asleep, so he and Stokes put them in their own beds and tucked them in.

"That was quite the story, although not quite how I remember it," the younger vampire said, smiling.

Nick smiled back. "Close enough."

The two left the boys' room and rejoined the adults.

"Both are sound asleep," Nick reported. "I don't think a tornado could wake those boys."

"The story wasn't too scary, I hope," Nat replied.

"He told them about Vegas," Stokes said. "Heavily edited, of course, but you were there. It wasn't too bad, was it?"

The parents smiled. That had been a huge episode in all their lives.

"I hope you tell them the real story one day," Gil said. "All of it. It's very important."

"I will," Nick replied softly. "But there's no need to rush. We have lots of time yet. All the time in the world."

FIN

73


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